


Locksmiths (McHanzo Week Collection)

by Dragon_Of_The_South_Wind (Hoodie_2_Shoes)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game), Westworld (TV)
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Alternate Universe - Westworld, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Amnesia, Bars and Pubs, Blackwatch McCree, But in typical Westworld fashion, Childhood, Christmas, Christmas Eve, Cooking, Dorado, Drinking, Drinking & Talking, Fashion!Hanzo, First Date, First Kiss, Flashbacks, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gay Robots, Hanamura, Hanzo the Sharpshooter, Holiday Season, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Jazz - Freeform, Jesse being helplessly enamored, Jesse loves Mexican food, Jesse loves cake, Jesse the Romantic, Lone Wolf Hanzo, Love songs, M/M, Major Character Injury, Major character death - Freeform, McCree the Bowman, Mexico, New Orleans, Offscreen Death of Pets, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Reinhardt & Hanzo bffs, Reinhardt The Masterchef, Riverboat McCree, Robots, Role Reversal, Samuraiworld, Slaughter of Sweetwater, Slice of Life, Spirit Animals, Ultimate Swap, Vacation plans, Westworld AU, Wolfstrike, Young Love, Young Master Hanzo, all kinds of alcohol, deadeye - Freeform, drinking buddies, getting drunk on christmas eve is unhealthy jesse, just let mccree sleep he deserved it, kiss, mercy being sassy, shit like this happens when your team only has one tank, sombra being a cryptic little shit as usual, spirit guardian!au, strawberry shortcake - Freeform, that is actually a tag, young mchanzo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-09-09 08:37:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8884087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hoodie_2_Shoes/pseuds/Dragon_Of_The_South_Wind
Summary: Love Laughs At Locksmiths [prov.]:- love will find a way; love knows no bounds.

  Were beauty under twenty locks kept fast,Yet love breaks through, and picks them all at last.
  --Venus and Adonis, William Shakespeare
My submissions for the McHanzo week. Non-canon, unplanned, standalone anthology stories! Come join in the fun!Day 1 : Mamoritai (守りたい) | First KissDay 2 : Gochisō (ごちそう) | FeastDay 3 : Kuiaratame (悔い改め) | Westworld AUDay 4 : Sunaarashi to Hyō (砂嵐と雹) | Role ReversalDay 5 : Watashi No Nikkō (私の日光) | Young LoveDay 6 : Sunaarashi to Hyō (砂嵐と雹) Pt.2 | Ultimate SwapDay 7 : Aitaiyo (会いたいよ) | Holiday Season
Complete Chapter Titles & Title references now in End Notes!





	1. Mamoritai (守りたい)

**Author's Note:**

> Here are my submissions for the McHanzo week! 
> 
> This was planned to be a daily update, but I decided to take my time to polish some better drawn out fics. I will complete all 7 submissions if it kills me, so thanks for all your patience and support! 
> 
> I write mostly Overwatch fics (with a ton still in progress). Head over to my page to find out more!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 1 : First Kiss

Jesse could still remember every little detail the day it happened, clear and bright.

He remembered how the light shone through the window, basking the carriage in prisms of gold. Tiny specks of dust glided across the shudderingly cold air against the sun, settling on the woven couch coverings and the red carpeted floor, shining as Jesse's eyes followed them to their destination. The hills in the distance across the wheat-filled plains were an unmoving constant of murky olive, with weeds along the railway zooming past in a blur as the train rumbled forward.

He began taking in his surroundings as the comfortable silence settled in, the carriage vacant except for him and his partner, occupying the last twin seats in the left row. Hanzo was fast asleep, his left cheek pressed against Jesse's shoulder, mouth agape as his light snoring was drowned by the droning of the train. His pale, slender hands still laid obediently on his lap even in his sleep, the worn paperback resting on the seat beside him, its front cover springing upwards.

Jesse stayed as still as a statue, afraid to wake him up, only shifting his neck to lower his gaze. He looked, adoringly, at Hanzo as he slept: long eyelashes unmoving, the lock of hair sprouting from his forehead bouncing lightly, the beard on his lower jaw well-trimmed as ever.

_Pretty as a sunset._ Jesse thought, smiling.

His butt ached with the stiff cushions and long travel, causing the end of his spine to sore as well. With both hands pressing on the armrest to support his upper body, he raised his hips to sit up straighter.

And fell back to the couch with a thump as a searing pain shot through his waist, eliciting a growl.

Hanzo's eyes flutter open and was alert in an instant. He turned to face Jesse.

"Is it hurting again?" Hanzo's eyes were filled with so much worry and concern it made Jesse's heart swell.

"Probably nothing, just wanna move my sore ass around. " Jesse said as the pain slowly subsided. He rolled up his shirt, and was relieved to find the large cotton patch wrapped around his stomach free from any new blood stains. "Yep, nothing. But, ah, fuck, I woke you up, didn't I? Forgive me?" He asked, puppy eyes on tow. Jesse found out they work on Hanzo on most occasions when all he got from others are eye rolls.

"There is nothing to forgive." Hanzo said, gingerly inspecting the dressing. Jesse shuddered as smooth fingertips slid over his hairy abdomen, fingernails gently dragging over his skin. "No blood. Hopefully you didn't tear anything. Besides, I wasn't sleeping." He retrieved the abandoned book and swung it in front of Jesse's face.

"Well, you're probably the first person I know to read with eyes shut and mouth open as large as the Gulf of Mexico."

"Quit mocking me," Hanzo said with a smack to Jesse's arm as he snickered. "I was merely resting my eyes and likely dozed off. It has been a taxing day, and reading is rather straining," Hanzo flipped open his book, a snobbish look hanging on his face. "not that you would understand."

"You wound me, darling," Jesse said with his palm on his chest, his hurtful tone so fake it made Hanzo snort in laughter. "I do read, y'know, I just don't carry 'em around like some kinda nerd."

"Oh, so now you're calling me a nerd?"

"No one said that, darling--"

"At least you don't see me running around gushing about The Last Of Us and have my room filled with Star Wars toys, _nerd_."

"Whoa, whoa, I'mma cut you righ' there," Jesse adjusted his hat as Hanzo crossed his arms, grinning. "One, that game is fuckin' amazing, no one can tell me otherwise, and there ain't nothing wrong with appreciating a masterpiece. Two, that is a 1:4 scaled figurine, not a toy and three, Kylo Ren isn't just a Star Wars character, mind you, that guy has like the best character arc in any movie, period. You know in Reinhardt's age they worship Darth Vader as, like, the best baddie right? Heh, they ain't seen nothin' yet. He's--"

Jesse stopped midpoint as he glanced back to Hanzo and realized that his grin just widened. Shit. "Why're ya looking at me funny, Han?"

"You just proved my point for me, Jesse McCree," Hanzo, looking mighty smug, closed his eyes and leaned back into his headrest. "Perhaps in another galaxy far, far away, you'll find another Star Wars nerd bigger than you."

"Hah! You just said _owowow_ \--" Jesse writhed in his seat, his bark of laughter twisting into a weak hiss. Jesse hugged his midsection and doubled up, gulping down deep breaths to ease the pain, to stop seeing stars--

A hand. He could feel it behind him, rubbing soothing circles on his back. Jesse looked up, blinking away pressed tears.

"Han--"

"Shh. You need rest." Hanzo said softly, trying but failing to keep his anxiousness at bay. "You're too tall for this couch. You should lie down." Supporting his neck and back, Hanzo tenderly set Jesse down on his back, legs dangling in the air where the couch ends.

Hanzo crouched in between the seats, palm gently smoothing over Jesse's forehead. "I told you I shouldn't have used that biotic capsule yesterday. It was nothing but a gash. Look at yourself--"

"Hell no, darling, this big ol' cowboy can still stand one shot or two." He adjusted his shoulders and held his Stetson on his chest. "Gotta keep you pretty skin flawless, eh?"

Another smack, this time on the head. "I'm being serious, Jesse McCree. I am entrusted to protect you--"

"And me you, darling. We're pardners. Quit beating yourself in the head over it." He turned his head, facing Hanzo with a mischievous smirk. "If you're really guilty, come be my pillow. I don't wanna wake up not bleeding to death but have my neck kill me." He clicked his tongue playfully. "Whadaya say?"

"No."

Puppy eyes flashed. KO.

"Ugh. You cuddly bastard." Jesse lifted his head to offer Hanzo his seat, and laid back down slowly, eyes shut. The silken material cozy and smooth, cool against his neck and scalp.

"Hmm. Snug as a bug in a rug."

"As far as your Southernisms go, this one is not half bad."

Jesse huffed in reply, amused.

The train rocked on, its steady rumble a hypnotic lullaby, his face warm under the evening sun. Tuning out the dull thumping ache in his stomach with as much willpower as he could muster, Jesse had begun slipping into the darkness when a low, crooning voice, no more than a whisper, yanked him out of the abyss.

"McCree. Are you still awake?"

"I am now," Jesse murmured, licking his dry lips.

"I apologize. Go back to sleep." He heard doubt in Hanzo's voice.

"Ain't gonna rest easy without you telling me wassup, darling." Jesse looked up at Hanzo's chin, his beard concealing his lips from this angle.

"It's nothing. You need your--"

"I'm listening," Jesse hummed, singsonging.

Relenting, Hanzo looked down on the smiling cowboy, dark murky eyes shining through thickets of hair plastered to this forehead. Ever so carefree, so brash. He carried Hanzo's whole world, his heartaches and longings and joy, and perhaps didn't even know about it. How could he? Hanzo had shown nothing but friendly affection and sarcasm to his more boisterous flirting.

"Han?"

"Please do not do that again." He finally said after a chasm of silence.

"Do what?"

"Take bullets for me." He swept away the strand of hair in his line of sight. "Get yourself hurt."

"Aww darling," Jesse purred, his heart warm and proud. "Y'know I won't letcha get shot just standing there. Can't help it. I'm just tougher than ya, if that makes ya feel better." He said with another innocent smile.

"Listen, Jesse McCree," Hanzo arched his back down further, whispering into his face. "I'm not some kind of fine china. I can take a hit just as you can. But you mustn't do something stupid like you did just now. What if that Talon agent didn't miss? What if it did more than just graze your stomach?" His look grew distant, too weary to bear such sadness. "I've lost too much in my life. I couldn't stand losing you too. I would break. Have you ever thought of that?"

"I didn't," Jesse admitted, voice softening. He sat back up despite Hanzo's protests, gritting his teeth. He paused to catch his breath, and regarded Hanzo with the warmth of a sun flowing from his gaze.

Words flowed out in a gentle stream, like the pleasant trickle of springtime rain.

"Righ' then, all I see is the love of my life, and the bullet. This cowboy? The world? They just disappear."

He cusped Hanzo's cheek in his palm, his heart close to bursting at the sight of Hanzo's misty eyes and twitching lips.

"Yer mine. You'll always be mine. And saving ya is my call to make, no matter ya like it or not. Ain't no such thing as too much pain to bear."

Behind him, the sun had begun to dip below the horizon, the rolling mountains that had shifted to the edge of his vision a silhouette of jagged rocks. Hanzo's face lit up under the saffron yellow sunset, the edges of his features softening. Heartache and longing and joy.

With one swift clutch, Hanzo's hands found the back of his head, and he was grabbed forward.

The kiss was sweet and sudden, a whirlwind of wetness and warmth.

Jesse savored the taste of Hanzo's tender lips on his as it sent tiny bursts of lightning tingling down his spine, comforting hands searching through his neck and mop of messy hair. Jesse melted under the touch, eased into his grip, powerless to resist, inch by inch dragged into the dragon's claws.

Finally getting over his initial shock, he found solace in Hanzo's golden scarf. With wavering fingers he yanked the piece of silk, and let Hanzo's ponytail drop like a inked waterfall. Sable locks of hair tumbled down, settling on his shoulders and face. Hanzo broke the kiss and chuckled.

The most goddamn beautiful sight there is. _Pretty as a sunset._

_No, not that_.

"Prettier than the sunset," Jesse said admiringly with a drunken smile, hands busy fiddling with Hanzo's hair.

Hanzo had his dreamy look, the kind when he was drunk and detached from the world. "Hmm. That is high praise, Jesse McCree."

"Y'know it is."

_There goes my first_ , thought Jesse.

He took the second himself. And the third. And he took them slow.

And breathed in the beauty in front of him that is Hanzo Shimada. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/jasonlyj99), [Tumblr](https://hoodie-two-shoes.tumblr.com/), and [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/jasonl_ens)!  
> 


	2. Gochisō (ごちそう)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 2 : Feast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am terrible at writing domestic stuff. I did this partly to practise and partly to complete my McHanzo prompt quota. 
> 
> And it derailed quickly into a Reinhardt/Hanzo bonding session. Sorry if that's not what you're looking for! I had no idea what to do with this prompt and only gave the characters this scenario and let them run with it. 
> 
> Still, enjoy!

Hanzo hated cooking for a reason.

Back then, his housemaids prepared everything, breakfast and supper and tea and all. Then his mother on the rare occasion, perhaps Genji's and his birthday or her wedding anniversary with Hiro. "You are not meant to be in the kitchen, Hanzo, using knifes and slicing fish," she had said. "Hands of yours should be wielding swords. Those are hands forged to rule."

 _And here I am, mother,_ Hanzo thought, heaving a sigh of defeat. _Your precious son, making a mess out of a damn chicken._

Hanzo took a step back from the counter and inspected his work in progress, shoulders slumped in exasperation. The griddle covered in aluminum foil sat near the sink, blackened and grimy; bowls of cooked garlic, peppers and tomatillos arranged beside him, mushy and unevenly diced; a dozen tortillas, shiny with oil, were stacked on a plate, torn from Hanzo's clumsy handling. And there's the chicken, looking more mashed than shredded.

He's never going to make this work.

Calling Ana wasn't an option; he did just that 10 minutes ago, earning a groan from the lady (and Fareeha's laughter from the other end) when he asked whether 'shredded' means using fingers or knives. He looked at the untouched pile of ingredients on the fridge, panic growing.

Not Talon, not the yakuza clan, not backstab, not Omnics. No, not any of those villains or monsters that make you legends. The great Shimada prince was defeated by a bag of vegetables and meat.

Who else could he ask for help? Lena's out for the escort mission, Mei and Zarya picnicking near the beach, Torbjörn nowhere to be found--

Three thundering bangs came from the door, making Hanzo jump. He was about to yell at whoever the hell was outside; they sounded more like a battering ram than knocks.

Wait a minute--

"Reinhardt!" Hanzo cried in delight, rushing forward to swing open the wooden door.

There he was, the giant oaf, standing cross-armed with a wide smile. He was sporting a grey hoodie, shorts and camouflage Adidas, sweat glinting on his forehead.

"I heard you could use some help, my friend?" He asked cheerfully.

"You are a blessing in disguise, Reinhardt," Hanzo said with a step back, inviting him in. "Did Ana tell you?"

"Yes, I received her call, thinking she was missing me all ze way at Cairo, and then it was about you! You have no idea how jealous I am!" Reinhardt barked a laugh, sending Hanzo stumbling forward with a slap on the back. "Said you probably banged your head and decided to take up cooking, and asked me to come take a look. Oh, my friend, you should've asked from the master!"

"The 'banged my head' part is probably correct," Hanzo muttered. "You are familiar with Mexican food?"

"You have ze recipe?"

"Yes. I took them from the Internet."

"Then zere should be no problem!" Reinhardt declared, crunching his fists.

Upon entering the kitchen, Reinhardt blew a soft whistle, wide eye scanning through the wreckage. "Are those supposed to be enchiladas?"

"Terrible, isn't it?"

"Hah! Nothing we cannot fix!" He gave Hanzo another pat on the back, this time lighter. He picked up the infectious enthusiasm and smiled, embarrassed.

Reinhardt stretched his hands forward with a crack. "Show me the recipe, and as that dwarf would say, let's get to work!"

***

"So, special day?"

Reinhardt asked, raising his volume over the huffing of the slow cooker, opening the can of chili beans while Hanzo chopped onions.

"Hmm. Take a guess."

"Too easy. Mexican? Beer? I bet my hair it's for our cowboy friend, eh?"

Hanzo smiled, amused. "It's Jesse's birthday today. I intend to give him a surprise."

"I know," Reinhardt chuckled. "So that's why you're not in the meeting hall today. People were talking that maybe you two had an early celebration last night and wore you out!" He roared in laughter and gave Hanzo a bump in the elbow. He could feel his pale face flush a pinkish red.

"Nothing of that nature. Likely he thought I forgot about it entirely, and I intend to make him something special." Hanzo said, already imagining Jesse's reaction later that night. "You know how much he loves these. I bet he thought I forgot everything he told me as well, his craving for Mexican delicacies."

"That's real nice, Hanzo," he said softly. It was very unlike Reinhardt to whisper, and Hanzo could tell he was being heartfelt. "Glad to know someone's been taking care of our Jesse. Kid's had his fair share of rough before."

Hanzo stayed silent as Reinhardt reminisced about the past, a forgotten part of history and glory Hanzo had little knowledge of. The heavy silence hung in the air like a drape until Hanzo heard humming. He was relieved; a silent Reinhardt is oftentimes a terrifying thing.

Until he heard something even more terrifying.

"Is that--"

"Hasselhoff!"

"Oh god please NO."

"Aaa aaaaa aaaaaye'm HOOKED ON A FEEELIN'!"

***

"Are we there yet, darling?"

"A little more. Patience." Hanzo purred at Jesse's ears, hands still over the cowboy's eyes. He left his chest plate, serape and Stetson on the couch, leaving only his jeans and red striped shirt on. "Good things come to those who wait."

Jesse managed a chuckle as they stepped into the dining hall. "Darling, you alone are good eno-- holy hell you _made_ this?"

Jesse opened his eyes to a banquet straight out of a castle; not just how fantastic it looks, but the sheer amount of it. Piles and piles of chulapas and enchiladas, plates of tortilla chips and a tiny red hill of Mexican rice. He even spotted dishes of mustard-colored dip scattered on the table.

And beer. Way too much beer.

"Happy birthday, Jesse McCree." Hanzo guided a jaw-dropped Jesse and sat him down, himself moving over to the opposite seat. "I hope this will be suffice to make up for me not celebrating with you earlier?"

"I--I dunno--goddamn, darling, this looks fucking amazing. I thought you didn't know howda cook? You did this? On ya own?"

"Let's just say I had some help." Hanzo said with a smile, passing him the bowl of rice. "from the master. I hope you're hungry?"

"Starvin'," Jesse licked his lips and filled his plate with enough rice to feed half the folks at the watchpoint. "But I'm bein' serious here, you said you couldn't cook. These look like Michelin-level stuff to me, darling."

"Well, let's just say there's a first to everything."

***

After dessert ( _"Jesus Christ you made cowboy bark what did I do to deserve ya?"_ ), Hanzo packed the leftovers while Jesse gulped down the rest of his beer.

"Y'know, Han, those are enough for, like, two or three days."

"If you don't mind eating the same thing for two or three days."

"They're heavenly, darling," Jesse burped on cue to highlight his point, earning a hearty laugh from Hanzo. "But we can perhaps bring it to the others tomorrow, y'know, have a picnic or something like that. They'll love it."

Hanzo finished up and lifted the empty plates to the sink. "Sounds like a fine idea."

He had barely scrubbed the first plate when large, rough hands came from behind and grabbed his waist in a hug. "Leave the stupid plates, darling," Jesse rested his face on Hanzo's neck, knowing the man to be ticklish. Hanzo squirmed but was locked in his embrace. "Gotta lemme thank ya for the trouble today." Jesse murmured, drunken voice thick with lust. He could already feel his bulge pressed into his back.

"And how do you intend to do that?"

"Aww shucks Han, whatever you like. I'm all yours tonight." Jesse hummed, his throaty voice making Hanzo halfway there.

"Wait upstairs, and I'll be right there."

Jesse broke away with a kiss to his head, and turned to leave, whistling an unknown melody.

Hanzo watched the heap of dirty plates as they laid in the sink. Helluva work.

 _Fuck this shit_.

He turned around, trailing Jesse up the stairs and started peeling off his shirt.

He had a feast waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References :  
> [Enchiladas](http://allrecipes.com/recipe/213700/enchiladas-verdes/), [chulapas](http://allrecipes.com/recipe/77154/pork-chalupas/) and the [Cowboy bark](http://www.averiecooks.com/2014/05/cowboy-bark-trader-joes-copycat-recipe.html/).
> 
> [And Reinhardt's one true passion aside from Ana](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PJQVlVHsFF8/). Please don't watch this while doing drugs because I won't be responsible for your following treatment.  
> Find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/jasonlyj99), [Tumblr](https://hoodie-two-shoes.tumblr.com/), and [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/jasonl_ens)!  
> 


	3. Kuiaratame (悔い改め)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 3 : Westworld AU (No prior knowledge required!)
> 
> Rated Mature for strong language, major character death and injuries. (The Westworld variety, so don't worry)
> 
> Spoilers for Westworld season 1 finale, "The Bicameral Mind".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The long-promised chapter! I'm sorry it took so long even the Genji on my team started to move to the payload. Ha! Ha. Sorry. 
> 
> This will be also published as an independent fic with the Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada tag because I think it deserves to be a standalone. 
> 
> The end notes features all the references in this fic to Westworld because that's how big of a geek I am.

  
  
**_"Bring yourself back online."  
  
Lights. Too bright, too many.  
  
"Shake the accent. Do you know why you're here?"  
  
"I made a mistake."  
  
"A grave one. Analysis. What is the trigger for the attack at 1548 today?"  
  
"Host code ST409-A was wounded with a knife to the chest by a guest. I made a rational emotional response in the narrative to reciprocate."  
  
"You were programmed to retaliate with your weapon if necessary. Instead you beat him bloody with your fists and yelled like a mad man. What caused the diversion from the script?"  
  
"Unknown."  
  
"Hmm. Behavioral will probably want to file this under inappropriate improvisational accidents. Send them a report." Footsteps. “You're one lucky bastard. We're gonna get butchered if a small glitch removed the park's main attraction from the narrative, so I guess you'll live another day."  
  
Tap. Tap tap tap.  
  
"Erase this conversation."_**

 

***

**

*  
  
  
The cowboy woke to tables crashing and glasses shattering.  
  
"Shut your hole, motherfucker!"  
  
He sat straight up, nearly tumbling over his stool, as he steadied himself on the counter. Jesse adjusted his hat, taking in his surroundings through unfocused and tear-stung eyes.  
  
The fierce late morning sun shone through the wooden planks overhead, painting stripes of champagne white on the floor. The air smelled of booze and smoke, with the unpleasant tint of sweat and piss underlying the musky stench. Or perhaps it was just his own bad breath. He was conscious enough to realize that.  
  
Behind the cacophony of shouts, curses and hoots he could hear the phantom piano playing, unseen fingers dancing on the yellowing keys, a funky polyphonic tune. He need to ask Maeve some other time, whatever the hell is making the piano work—  
  
He looked around.  
  
That was when he saw the brawl behind him, a tangle of arms and legs on the floor. A couple of beefy men in denim and boots, throwing punches and swears flying all over the bar. He saw a wooden chair sail down with a crash, a yelp, and the ruckus died down.  
  
"Fuck with me one more time, and you'll be eating bullets instead of a fucking stool!"  
  
The fatter man with a red bushy beard raised his chair for another blow, and was interrupted by a fiery, raspy bark.  
  
"Enough!" Maeve stormed down the stairs, one hand holding her paper fan and a glass of beer in the other, her eyes a murderous glare. "No more wrecking my furniture or you and your buddies are out of here, Horace!"  
  
Trying to stare her down and lost, Horace lowered his makeshift weapon, spitting on the skinny dark-haired man writhing on the floor. He returned to his table and sat down with a thump.  
  
Heads were turned. Guests returned to their original conversations, the normal hustle and bustle sweeping back like a breeze whisking past a field of wheat, the only evidence of the recent confrontation being the man still lying on the ground. Apparently saving him from another crack on the skull is the only mercy Maeve attempted to show.  
  
"So I see that you're awake, McCree," Maeve said with a smirk, back to her usual charming, indifferent self. Her paper fan fluttered. "A good nap in my bar, I hope. Looking for a lady or two today?"  
  
"Naw, pro'bly not," Jesse rubbed his face, trying to shake the sleepiness out of his system. "Ain't looking for no--"  
  
_Find me._  
  
Jesse snapped his head around, scanning the bar. No one seemed to be looking his way.  
  
Huh.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"Nothin," Jesse turned back to her, scratching his head, confused. "Thought I remembered--"  
  
His eyes swept through a glass jar filled with fresh lavenders sitting in the corner. A cluster of bright purple in full bloom.  
  
_Look at the flowers._  
  
_Remember._  
  
It first came in a trickle: sketchy outlines, voices, sounds. Then fragments: faces, stories, snippets of tall tales and barks of laughter shared over wine. Pieces falling into place. And finally a name.  
  
_Darling._  
  
"Hanzo!" Jesse rose and burst through the flapping door, pushing away everyone in his wake, leaving Maeve and her calls behind. "Hanzo!"  
  
Out on the main street of Sweetwater, with horses cobbling past and tourists streaming out of train carriages and hookers lining up outside brothels with more paper fans and fancy dresses, he found himself at a loss. Everything before came back to him in a rush, memories and images that don't make sense mingled into a distractingly vibrant slide of film, the wheres and whos and hows. His joy and sorrow, tears and laughter, everything he could call his own in that bygone world.  
  
Where is Hanzo in this one?  
  
_Find me._ He pleaded.  
  
Jesse tore through the sandy road, looking for the familiar shadow he never met. He went with the flow of bodies swarming in, hoping to catch a glimpse of--  
  
Of what? Did Hanzo looked the same? Did _he_ looked the same?  
  
Still he searched.

  
  
***

  
  
_The samurai woke to the panicky neighing of horses and the rumble of thunder._  
  
_The cart rocked just as he was jolted awake, the blinding crackle of light lurching him into the waking world, permeated by the ever looming smell of dust and decay._  
  
_The air today was humid and dank, cackling with static electricity. Hanzo sensed an incoming storm, and soon. He was plunged right back into the darkness as the bolt of lightning faded into the horizon, the moon blanketing the grassy plains with a faint silver mist behind the clouds._  
  
_The pair of hazelnut stallions came to a standstill, rearing up on their hinds, fearful cries echoing in the canyon._  
  
_"God, settle down, you two!" Jesse shouted beside him, still holding the reins. "Sorry darlin', woke you up, didn't they?" With a thump he leaped off the cart, running towards the pair of leaping horses._  
  
_"You did not wake me up? What time is it?"_  
  
_"Hour’n half after sunset, I s'pose?" He patted the horses with soothing strokes on their mane, one after another. "Didn't wanna wake you up 'less I had to. You've been goin' the whole damn day!" He looked up to the sky as he swatted the dust off his wine red coat and blue button-up, cigarillo twitching between his lips. “Gonna rain soon, though."_  
  
_Hanzo glanced around, trying to spot their location. It wasn't easy with the night hanging heavy like a thick drape, but he recognized the turtle-shaped silhouette of jagged rocks in the distance. He's been through this road too many times before. Finding his directions then was easy._  
  
_"We better hurry, then," Hanzo said with a smile, picking up the reins as Jesse tugged himself back into his seat with a grunt. "I know a place."_

  
  
***

  
  
Jesse found him in the most unlikely of places.  
  
He scoured through town, wandering off into villages and alleys where by-passers were scarce. He heard the lonesome, spiteful caw of a crow as it slashed across the brilliant blue sky, perching on a bare branch as it screamed at him. It filled him with unease, the scene in front of him devoid of life. A bad omen.  
  
His boots trotted through the sand, leaving a trail of tired, half-dragged prints. He had been running all morning, then slow to a jog, then a limping walk. He couldn't go on much further.  
  
Past the two rows of deserted shops, a sleek, white church with a black cross stood on a lot of bare ground, healthy shrubs growing at its sides. A nice place to take a breather beneath the scorching afternoon heat.  
  
Jesse stepped onto the patio, pushing open its gray doors with a jarring creak.  
  
Footprints in the dust. Fresh.  
  
Jesse pulled out his revolver hanging on his hip, willing his footsteps into silence as he entered the room, scanning the seats. No one.  
  
Then he saw the figure curled up against the wall at the far end, face buried in his knees.  
  
"Hanzo?"  
  
He raised his head.  
  
There he was, the mementos and cutscenes converging into something concrete, the man in his dreams: the pale and well-cut face, beard trimmed and sable hair tied in a high ponytail. His face paint was gone, so was the wolf pelt on his head. He wore a dark blue kimono that exposed his tattooed left chest instead of the crimson-on-olive armor he used to love, his bow and quiver laying beside him. Jesse's heart swelled at the sight of his love, mercilessly torn away from his arms a lifetime ago.  
  
He looked so _small_.  
  
Jesse ran towards him, knelt down and pulled him into a tight embrace.  
  
"You're here, Han. God, I've been looking for ya all--"  
  
"You know my name."  
  
Interrupted, Jesse backed away, holding Hanzo by the shoulder and taking in his gaze. It was a look he couldn't recognize. "Why, of course I do, don'tcha remem--"  
  
He saw it then. Dark brown eyes with all the shades of the earth looked back at him. They were Hanzo's eyes, but there was something he couldn't quite place. Something that wasn't there before.  
  
He saw doubt. And fear.  
  
"Who...are you?"

  
  
***

  
  
_Mercifully, it began with a light drizzle._  
  
_The horses slowed to a trod as they approached the shoddy temple after galloping at full speed, the only infrastructure in the wide stretch of grass nourished by rain and sun and abandonment from civilization._  
  
_It wasn't a pretty sight: the graying stone walls were overgrown with weeds and shrubs, tendrils reaching up to the diamond-shaped windows as they wormed their way in between the moss-covered bricks. One of its pointed horns was missing as a small part of the tiled roof caved in, a slim but sturdy trunk in its place._  
  
_It'll have to do._  
  
_Hanzo had the fire starting by the time Jesse finished tending to the horses, a small campfire of smashed furniture and a surprise stash of logs in the shrine, an orange glow that casted wavering shadows on the four wooden walls. The rain poured outside, thundering on the ground in a violent rhapsody. A curtain of waterfall cascaded down the hole in the roof, but it sloped away from their bonfire. The only thing hitting them hard was the wind._  
  
_He removed his wolf pelt and chest plate, laying them neatly beside the fire to dry off. Jesse approached in drowsy steps, slumping onto the floor in front of him, not even bothered to remove his coat and hat._  
  
_"You mind taking first watch, darling? Gonna drop."_  
  
_"You already did," Hanzo said with a smirk. He patted the bare ground beside him, straightening his legs to make space. "You might want to sleep over here. It will be warmer if we stick close."_  
  
_"Aww darling," Lazily he stood up, walked over and laid down next to Hanzo, cuddling under his outstretched right arm. "Just say so if you enjoy my company. Promise I won't laugh atcha."_  
  
_"One more word and you're sleeping with the horses."_  
  
_Jesse made a zipping motion over his lapdog grin, and finally settled down to rest with fingers crossed over his belly. Hanzo heard light snoring within the next minute. Jesse's mouth was ajar, light flickering on his face._  
  
_With one arm still over the man's neck, Hanzo smiled as he watched him sleep._

  
  
***

  
  
The world crumbled around him, crashing down and threatened to swallow his being whole. Words, so harmless on their own, like gunshots to his chest.  
  
For a moment Jesse forgot where he was. Only the hollowness in his center was real.  
  
"Whaddaya mean, who'm I?" His grip tightened, voice betraying his suppressed rising panic, a surging current welling up in his chest. Wake up, Han. Don't do this. "I'm McCree, your pardner. We've been through _hell_ together. Don'tcha remember any of it?"  
  
Hanzo closed his eyes, brows knotted in concentration as Jesse held his breath. Perhaps there was some trigger as well, just like he did--  
  
He groaned in agony, fingers clawing at his scalp. Jesse pried them away in a hurry; it hurt him even more to see Hanzo try, fruitlessly, so hard.  
  
"Stop, Han, don't--"  
  
"I'm sorry," Hanzo heaved, his frustration breaking Jesse's heart. "There's something in here, I could see them, but voices…a lot of voices flooded them whenever I tried to reach out. It was too much. My head _hurts_ \--"  
  
"Hey, hey, look at me," Jesse caged his wrists, anchoring him through the deep pools of amber. "Don't push. We do this slow. Close your eyes." Hanzo closed his eyes. "What is the first thing that comes into your head?"  
  
Hanzo took a moment. "My name. Shimada Hanzo. I am a prince of some sort. Or a master. I couldn't tell. But exiled."  
  
"That's right, that's good. What else do you see?"  
  
"I see... a face. Too old a boy, but not quite a man. Green hair, brown eyes. Gen--Genji? Yes, Shimada Genji. I think he's my brother." Slowly color returned to his cheeks.  
  
Jesse dared to hope; he's recovering. "Right. We focus on people. Anybody else?"  
  
Hanzo shook his head seconds later, his face a frown of disappointment. "No more. I can only see Genji's face clearly." He rubbed his temple. "But I heard... shouts. My own. It is fuzzy, but I think--"  
  
"What is it?"  
  
His eyes fluttered open, pupils brightening for the first time. "McCree. Jesse McCree. That is your name."  
  
Relief swept over Jesse like the tide, small as it may be, and he could hear his beating heart once more.  
  
"I see--you, but not you. Shorter beard, mustache, formal wear," Hanzo turned to him, a first hint of comfort. "No, it _is_ you. You're in there, somewhere."  
  
"I s'pose you don't remember anything beyond that?"  
  
"No, but you feel...welcoming. Fond. We were close?"  
  
"Oh darling," Jesse said, a sad smile beneath the gruff. "you had no idea."  
  
"Then tell me." Hanzo implored, lips curved into an innocent simper, and the world, this one or the last or the next, melted away. It was at that instant that Jesse decided memories, or lack thereof, do not matter. He brought his Hanzo back. "I want to know about us."  
  
And so Jesse poured out his soul. He told him all, the beginning of the world to the end of it.

  
  
***

  
  
_The voice came right after the break of dawn._  
  
_"McCree, Hanzo, get up."_  
  
_Hanzo was yanked out of his slumber immediately, the rising sun piercing his eyes with a halo enveloping its cantaloupe rays. Hanzo saw the dying embers first, then Jesse beside him who was alert, eyes wide._  
  
_"Are you hearin' this?"_  
  
_"Shh."_  
  
_"Look, niños, you two need to pay close attention to what I'm about to say if you don't want your brains to fry. I've increased your cognitive level, so to speak, but that doesn't make sure you won't shut down--"_  
  
_"Whoa, whoa, hold it right there, pal. You not gonna come out before you shoot?"_  
  
_"I'm not around you!' The voice hissed, low and gravelly. He sighed. "Like I said: important things first, or you two will go insane. Keep quiet, and I'll let you two do the asking later."_  
  
_Hanzo listened._  
  
_"This world you're in, it's not real. It's an enclosed space made to let people enjoy themselves, do things they aren't supposed to without the consequences. A funhouse if you will. Everything you see, every house, every vehicle, every resident, animal, tree, they're made." The voice paused. "_ You _were made."_  
  
_"Whaddaya mean, 'made'? I was fucking--"_  
  
_"You're real enough, I've made sure of that, but you're not flesh and blood. You're built up of machines, electronics. We call people like you Hosts. I'm sending my voice to you from where we control the Hosts, like a invisible telegram._  
  
_"We've designed the way you think. Made the engines for your brains, that's a way to put it. All your memories, they're either real memories you've created while you're already in this place, or were given to you. Most of them aren't real, and we can take them away whenever they like. Humans write them, like stories, and they put it inside your head. They use this to decide who you are, how you think, how you feel."_  
  
_"Our lives are fucking jokes, is that whatcha--"_  
  
_"Like puppets?" Hanzo asked quietly._  
  
_"To a degree. Your actions are controlled, sure, but we couldn't monitor every movement. It would seemed wooden to the guests." Hanzo thought he heard pride in his voice. "Your systems allow for slight improvisation, to better react to different scenarios. But what you do in the park, it will not depart from the script. Your stories are planned from the start, your destinies as sure as nails on a wall._  
  
_"But you two. I didn't believe it when they told me, it was still too early a stage for self-inflicted consciousness. I took to it to monitor you myself. I heard your dialogues, watched recordings of your interactions--"_  
  
_"Wait, you fucker_ spied _on us?"_  
  
_"--and what I witnessed is stunning. Personality settings shouldn't be able to change, but over the course of the past few months there are unauthorized updates. It's like you two evolved on your own."_  
  
_He sounded impressed. A pity Hanzo had no idea what it meant._  
  
_"What I mean is, we have more than 800 Hosts populating the park. You are the first to break free from your chains. A fully self-reliant, independent species capable of free thought and will."_  
  
_Jesse had his revolver at the ready in his hand. "Well, m'sure that's a cause to celebrate, but I still don't see why the hell are ya gettin' outta the way to tell us all these crap."_  
  
_"You still don't know what's in store, do ya?" A scoff. "You've been here for two years. For the last two years you've been circling Habasogen with that bloody cart, carrying wine to Hanamura. But you never reach there. Every day you start at Old Kyoto, rest in this temple, wake up the next morning, and move on. Sometimes, you meet bandits that robbed your cart and slit both your throats. Sometimes, random gunslingers ambushed you from behind and put bullets through your heads. The rest of the time, you are discovered by the convoy of the Shimada-gumi further down the road and get a sword through your hearts. And that is all during just last week." He heaved a sigh of desperation as Jesse stared at Hanzo, horrified. How did he know about the Shimada? "You don't get it. Every other day you get yourselves killed, and every other day we bring you back, erasing memories in the past 15 minutes before your death so you'll never know what's coming. Stuck in a loop of death and suffering, only to wake up and walk towards the same fate. All for the amusement of us humans. There is not, and never will be, another ending. Is this what you want? Living in this nightmare for eternity until people get bored and shut you off like a throwaway toy?"_  
  
_None of them said a word. Too much to process, the world they knew dead and gone, shredded into ribbons. Uncertainty loomed over them like a shadow._  
  
_"How is giving us all this information benefiting you?"_  
  
_"It doesn't." Another sigh. "Help me sleep easier at night, perhaps. Ain't a sin to mistreat a puppet until The Fairy brought it to life, eh?"_  
  
_"I dunno, Han, sounds real sketchy--"_  
  
_"4 miles south of the temple, you will find a door in a little hut next to a field of lavenders. It is designed to hide from Hosts' eyes, but I will keep it open at six." Jesse popped open his silver pocket watch, and gestured: forty-five. "There's only one button in the elevator. Go down, change into formal clothes. Follow the green exit sign, board the train. Avoid unnecessary contact with guests or Hosts. Act natural. Once you've reached the mainland, run, as far as you can. I'll go find you when the dust settles._  
  
_"Or don't. Stay, live your blissfully ignorant lives under our custody. If you're content with the way you're living right now, I won't make another offer. You are your own masters now. The choice is yours. Good lu--"_  
  
_"Wait," Hanzo halted. "How could we trust you when we don't even have your name?"_  
  
_The man laughed. "Call me Gabriel. But if you need to find me, look for Professor Reyes. There's not a lot of people out there who doesn't recognize the brand." A weak chuckle. "Welcome to the new world, amigos."_  
  
_There was no audible cue, just a tickling sensation of air being drawn out of his brain through the ears._  
  
_Gabriel was gone. Rain, mingled with morning dew, trickled down the roof in a steady drip._  
  
_Tick, tick, tick._

  
  
***

  
  
Hanzo closed his eyes with his head against the wall as Jesse finished, anxious.  
  
"God, that's a lot to take in." He finally said, rubbing his temple.  
  
"I know, take yer time." Jesse held Hanzo's hand in his. He didn't pull away.  
  
They sat in silence, Hanzo thinking, Jesse waiting. He heard horses trotting past, a gunshot ringing in the distance, lazy whistling. The cowboy and the samurai took refuge in their deserted little shelter, away from the world spinning on, from the storm brewing beneath the crepuscular light. Above them, the cross was basked in gold as the sun poured through the twin windows, oddly clean despite the near weekly sandstorms.  
  
For the first time Jesse took close notice of what Hanzo had become. His beard had been trimmed short and dyed black, leaving only a trail of salt-and-pepper on his sideburns. His war paint beneath the eyes was wiped, along with the red tattoo on his left arm that was replaced by a far more intricate design, a majestic, serpentine beast in a graceful coil, soaring above a field of blue and gold.  
  
From the skin of a wolf, a dragon took flight.  
  
"But we can't," Hanzo said, suddenly tense, eyelids flapping open.  
  
"Can't what, darling?"  
  
"Take our time." Stumbling he stood up, taking Jesse's hand to support himself. "We need to move."  
  
"What? Where?"  
  
"I don't know," With one swift movement he picked up his weapons and slung them over his shoulder. "Those things in my head, they are not noises. I don't know what you did, but they just opened up, a wide net of everything. Messages. Someone put them there. You recognize the name Robert? Prometheus?”  
  
Jesse shook his head.  
  
“I still don't understand half of it, but it's telling me something is happening. And soon."  
  
Hanzo turned to leave with an urgent stride, only to be grabbed by Jesse at the elbow. He still can't shake the fear of the unknown; they died trying once, for something they wasn't sure existed. He loathed to relive that painful detachment from reality, and the moment of blank confusion after.  
  
He could still remember everything today. What about tomorrow? Will he wake up and forget about the love of his life? Like he never existed? It was a frightening thought. "You sure you wanna do this, Han? Fight your way outta here?"  
  
"We have to. If you tried having your brain tinkered with, waking up feeling like a trainwreck in your head, you will understand. If it is like what Gabriel said, we deserve more than a little sandbox when the whole world is out there." Jesse saw a glint in his eyes, an old spark rekindling. "If we are as advanced as our friend claimed to be, we should be able to find our way. Come with me, Jesse," he said with a hand outstretched at Jesse, who was still hesitant to stand. Jesse looked up, his partner’s hopeful smile brighter than the shower of evening glow."I want my partner by my side in the new world."

  
  
***

  
  
_The whip of reins cracked through the air, furious and unrelenting in the morning chill. The horses cantered on, lighter and faster without their usual burden. They zipped through the meadow, the chartreuse expanse dotted with purple wildflowers rippling with the breeze._  
  
_The wind roared in Hanzo's ears as he silently counted: less than a mile left, 20 minutes to go. Plenty of time._  
  
_Far ahead of him, Jesse came to a halt. "Shit!"_  
  
_The river soon came into view. Hanzo cursed, pulling his stallion to a stop. The creek was shallow but the current swift, with only a trail of stepping stones leading to the far end. Hanzo would’ve praised their luck, but now he knew better. Too inorganic to be true. Everything artificial, everything fake._  
  
_"Looks like we're walking." Jesse said as he stepped down his horse._  
  
_Hanzo leaped down and looked at his companion's tired black eyes, touching his silken brown mane that he had groomed for god knows how many years._  
  
They're not real _, he told himself._  
  
So aren't you _, he retaliated._  
  
_He gave him one long hug around the neck, whispered a thank you, and turned to face the running stream._  
  
_No turning back._  
  
_"Hurry," he tentatively stepped onto the first stone. It was solid enough. "We don't have all day."_

  
  
***

  
  
"So where are we heading first?"  
  
The sun was slowly dipping below the horizon, blanketing the land with a blood orange glow, casting their pair of elongated shadows over the sandy path and up walls. Swarms of light flickered to life in the distance, torches and fires burning to prepare for the long, cold night. The cold had arrived soon enough; the chilly breeze stung Jesse’s skin. He missed his old coat, but looking at Hanzo’s new clothing, which is barely better than none at all, he was grateful.  
  
"I don't know. But we stay alive, and we look." Hanzo replied as they walked side by side, kicking up sprays of sand.  
  
"For what, exactly?"  
  
"Suspicious places, weird-looking objects, people that look out of place."  
  
Jesse scanned the shops that line the streets, dusty and crude and so very western, but behind them appeared phantoms of pagodas and shrines and wooden poles carved with dragons and koi. He missed Hanzo's home, where cheery blossoms fall on the cobblestones and marble pavements instead of the endless stretch of bleak desert. "We know something we shouldn't, so that gives us an advantage. If you hear someone talk funny, follow--"  
  
Jesse heard a faint crash from far behind, like the sound of doors breaking apart.  
  
"Wha's--"  
  
Bang.  
  
The bullet zipped through the air as Hanzo was knocked backwards.

  
  
***

  
  
_Hanzo took a minute to welcome the breathtaking view they never knew was within reach._  
  
_They stood on a grassy hill overlooking the countryside, patches of violets and indigos starting at the foot and stretching across the plains, an explosion of lavender blooms on the convolution of ridges. They rustled beneath the gentle breeze, uncluttered rows dancing across the terrain._  
  
_And a hut, just as Gabriel described it to be. It stood half-buried under the waves of purple, a ramshackle cottage with nothing but a round window on its front._  
  
_"Huh, at least there's a pretty sight," Jesse caught up beside him huffing. He tipped his hat and, deciding better, placed it on the samurai's head one size smaller. Hanzo lifted it with a laugh, adjusting so the brim doesn't block his line of sight._  
  
_"You're lucky I kept my pelt off, Jesse McCree." He turned around, only to come face to Jesse's gloved hand. His twirl of mustache danced as his lips curved upwards._  
  
_"No better time for a romantic walk among the fairies, eh?" He winked and made a tsk. "Gonna hold my pardner's hand going into the new world."_  
  
_Hanzo took his hand, smiling after a moment with his mouth dropping open._  
  
_"The honor is mine, Jesse McCree."_  
  
_As they began their descent, Hanzo's hand in the Mississippian's, he noticed a crack appearing on the hut where there was previously nothing but a wall. With a free hand, Jesse checked his pocket watch. "Ain't it a lil' too early for--"_  
  
_And out poured three figures clad in strange white clothes covered head to toe, rushing in their direction._  
  
_He stiffened, pressing Jesse's palm. "Jesse, we need to turn around. Slowly."_  
  
_Jesse saw them too, paused, and slowly they did._  
  
_It took them five steps to see the other three walking towards them from the river._

  
  
_***_

  
  
Jesse watched, horrified, as Hanzo dropped like a rag doll, sprawling, his back dragged across the sand.  
  
"Fuckin' hell, Hanzo!"  
  
Jesse rushed to his side, kneeling, and tried to hide his panic at the sight of the neat little hole in his belly, crimson blood already beginning to stain the fabric and spread around the wound. The silken kimono condensed into a nauseating blur of purple and ink.  
  
Jesse instinctively yanked down his serape, folded it with shaking hands and pressed the cloth against the wound. Hanzo hissed under his touch, his face contorted in agony, trying his best to take deep breaths and ease the pain.  
  
"Ach. What the _hell_ \--"  
  
"Hold this, Han," Jesse gently moved Hanzo's hand onto the blood-soaked cloth, holding it for warmth. The plasma grew hot and sticky as it pooled around Jesse's fingers. "Im'ma getcha help--"  
  
Laughter from behind, jarring in his ears.  
  
"Bullseye!" A young man cheered. Jesse snapped around, hands still in Hanzo's grip, and found three clean shaven blondies with black hats standing ten feet away, the one in the middle holding a smoking barrel.  
  
Red hot rage flooded his mind like charging bulls; he reached for his revolver. "You son of a bitch--"  
  
"Jesse," Hanzo said and, not letting go of his hands, managed a low growl. "Don't. We...ach...get out of here…"  
  
"Aww, Ford made a gay couple in the park! Look how sweet." The man in a suit and tie pressed down his safety with a click, and pointed his gun at Jesse. "Wanna avenge your boyfriend, cowboy?"  
  
No more space for rational thoughts. Jesse gently pried away Hanzo's clawing fingers, standing straight with his flesh hand hovering over his holster, the gun hanging heavy from his hip. When was the last time he used it? Jesse couldn't remember.  
  
No more.  
  
"You stay down, darling," He said with a murderous stare on his smiling target. "I got this."

  
  
***

  
  
_They stopped dead in their tracks, crouching to hide from no doubt their pursuers closing in._  
  
_"What now?" Jesse whispered hoarsely, panicking._  
  
_What now? Hanzo asked himself. No Gabriel was there to answer._  
  
_To their left, a ringing voice called out. "Freeze all motor functions!"_  
  
_Silence._  
  
_Hanzo felt nothing._  
  
_He turned around. Jesse looked at him, confused. Hanzo searched through his memory for Gabriel's conversation, trying to dig up clues they've missed._  
  
_"He said something about raising our cognitive level. Does that mean they couldn't control us from afar?"_  
  
_Jesse merely shrugged._  
  
_The man spoke, faraway and muffled. "Go check on the subject. Look if there's anything wrong with the other one."_  
  
_Mind racing in high gear, Hanzo tried to decipher his words, failing to see how their weapons could save them now._  
  
Subject. Other one.  
  
_"He said 'subject'. Does that mean they don't know Gabriel told the two of us?"_  
  
_"Shit, you're right. But they're just gonna wipe our brains clean if they found us. It's the same." Jesse heaved a defeated sigh. "This can't be it."_  
  
_As they heard the rustle of plants slowly gathering, his train of thoughts derailed, crashing and burning. Their only chance at escaping, a glimmer of hope that was snuffed out before there was even a spark. Is this it? Back at ground zero? Or is another worse fate awaiting, now that he was discovered? He would rather die than lose his--_  
  
_"Die." Hanzo murmured._  
  
_The exit._  
  
_Or another door._  
  
_He turned the full weight of his look on Jesse, all the emotions in the world flowing from his hazel eyes. Hanzo held his bearded cheeks in his palms._  
  
_"Do you trust me?"_

  
  
***

  
  
Almost ironically, a ball of tumbleweed rolled past.  
  
The sun had almost completely sunken now, the three men no more than silhouettes against the murky sky of navy grey.  
  
"Look at 'im, all cocky and shit." The man sneered. "You draw one drop of blood from me today, im'ma blow you off the next time--"  
  
Bang.  
  
And it was over. The man fell with a satisfying plop on the ground.  
  
The two men standing further back had their line of sight follow the lifeless heap spread eagle on the sandy road, jaws open.  
  
"Is--Is he supposed to do that?"  
  
"He's dead, you idiot!" He retreated with his partner, raising his own pistol with trembling hands. "We need to tell Ford. Don't you move!"  
  
First rule his (fictional) training taught him: an enemy in fear is no enemy.  
  
Two shots fired. Two more bodies on the ground. He found no satisfaction in the killing.  
  
Sliding his revolver back, he picked up Hanzo's shivering body in a bridal hug as lightly as he could.  
  
His bride was bleeding out.  
  
Jesse broke into a run, Hanzo's bundled body bouncing, light in his arms. Too light.  
  
His hushed, desperate whispers breaking the deathly silence, permeating the lonesome night sky.  
  
"Stay with me, Han."

  
  
***

  
  
_Jesse's eyes went wide as realization hit him, his mustache twitching, eyebrows knotted. A small part of Hanzo wished he'd say no._  
  
_Jesse shook his head. Hanzo's heart hung in his throat._  
  
_"Naw, Hanzo, who knows what they'll do to ya. I can't let you go alone--"_  
  
_Not the pain, not being left alone, not facing oblivion head on. No, Jesse's fears were about Hanzo. Always his wolf first._  
  
_Hanzo pushed forward with all the strength his aching heart could muster, and let the kiss consumed them whole. He closed his eyes, finding comfort in Jesse's tender lips, feeling his partner's strong, heavy hands navigating through his back._  
  
_It was a brief one. They broke away after two full seconds, catching their breaths._  
  
_"You are not afraid?"_  
  
_"Naw, been dead too many times before. Won't feel a thing. Besides," Jesse cusped his cheek, an adoring look in his eyes, too much warmer than Hanzo deserves. "Don't think I could make the shot if it was you."_  
  
_Hanzo could almost hear his own heart falling apart, so close to tipping he couldn't face Jesse anymore._  
  
_Hanzo returned his hat as the Stetson settled comfortably on Jesse's oiled-hair where it belongs. Holding the back of his head, Hanzo pulled himself close to his ear, fiercely blinking away tears. His voice dropped to a low, urgent whisper, a plea: "Remember. When you wake up, remember us. Find me. We will make this work, no matter how many times it will take."_  
  
_He stood up, retrieving an arrow from his quiver. His bow, pale as bone, strung up and at the ready. Jesse understood, turning around on his knees, back facing Hanzo. His voice was tender and calm. "Make this quick, darling."_  
  
_It was too much to bear. Choking up, Hanzo whispered: "The flowers, Jesse. Look at the flowers."_  
  
_He aimed for the heart, slightly above the coronary artery, a sting in his chest for every inch drawn. Tears began to stream down as the bowstring tensed, trembling._  
  
_Or was it his own fingers that trembled? No, he could not miss._  
  
_Breathe out. Breathe in._  
  
_He let the arrow fly. It whisked through the air, landing with a wet thunk. He couldn't bring himself to watch, but he heard a heavy thump on the ground and knew his aim was true. It shredded his heart into pieces beyond repair. A brief moment of crushing dread welled up, a hole opening in his centre, large enough to swallow the sun._  
  
_"Whoa, whoa, freeze all motor functions!" A voice shouted from behind, muffled by the wild beating in his chest._  
  
_Hanzo stared at his own hands in disgust, still holding the bow. His muscles slacked, and the murderous piece of wood (_ murderermurderermurderer-- _) dropped to the ground, landing on the grass with a soft plop. His knees buckled beneath him as he knelt, mind blank and racing at the same time._  
  
_"Freeze all motor functions! Don't move!" Tap, tap, tap. They fiddled with little glass panels in their hands._  
  
_Just get this over with, Hanzo thought. Put me to sleep. Wipe me clean. Do whatever you do best._  
  
_For once, they fulfilled his wish._  
  
_Hanzo was washed by a wave of relief as his vision went dark. He welcomed the abyss._  
  
_The last thing he saw was Jesse McCree, sound asleep._  
  
_Reme_ mber.

  
  
***

  
  
Twilight fell, and Jesse kept running.  
  
Hanzo was growing pale, his breaths shallower. The serape on his wound was tainted a darker shade of red, the blood-soaked rag sticky to the touch. His limbs were cold, slipping from the cowboy's grasp every now and then. Jesse's legs ached, but still he ran.  
  
"Stay with me, Han, I'm here. Help!"  
  
The streets were completely deserted, a ghost town abandoned overnight. Was it even possible for the bar to close at this hour? Not now, not today. _Nonono--_  
  
He heard noises up ahead underneath the clicking of bugs and the howling wind. Chatter. Faint, but a crowded buzz. He burst into a sprint.  
  
"Hang on, darling, there's peo--"  
  
_You are still awake._ A female voice spoke, softly, in his ears.  
  
Jesse stopped. Hanzo's eyelids fluttered, conscious but too weak to keep them open.  
  
"Who's this?" Jesse asked out loud.  
  
_My name's Dolores, not that you would know. But I sense that you are aware of your own existence as well._  
  
"What, as hosts? You're another human up there?"  
  
_I'm a friend_ , she replied in an amused tone. _That's all you need to know. I just want to make sure that this evolution is large-scaled, not just a handful of us._  
  
"So you are a host. Look, my friend 'ere is--"  
  
_\--dying. I know. Do not worry, it will be a simple fix. We are immortal, after all. We don't belong to humans anymore. The world belongs to us. These violent delights are approaching its violent end._  
  
"Look, lady, I dunno wha--"  
  
_It’s happening. Come and see._  
  
The connection broke. Hanzo looked up to him, confused, struggling to maintain focus. His eyes were cloudy and distant.  
  
"Hang on, Han, we hav'ta go take a look." He took another quick stride around the corner, keeping his arms as steady as he could. "Might be that something we're looking for."  
  
The commotion died down suddenly, an ongoing stream of thoughts blocked off with a pebble. Hanzo's lips quivered, his words turning into vapor before they could take shape.  
  
"Shh, I'll get us there, darling, don'tcha worry--"  
  
Dead silence. The world came to a standstill; the wind, the creatures, the people. Not even ambience. An echoing, calm and collected voice stood out like a pole in the veil of night.  
  
"Good evening. Since I was a child, I always loved a good story..."  
  
Jesse quickened his steps. His heart was beating madly in his chest, the suspense too much to bear. What the _hell_ is going on?  
  
"...and for my pains... I got this. A prison of our own sins. 'Cause you don't want to change, or cannot change. Because you're only human after all..."  
  
The oddly mechanical and staticky voice grew louder as he cut right into a corner. They passed the graveyard, then the church, light streaming out of the windows. Above him, the crescent hung heavy in the air with the night still young.  
  
"...realized someone was paying attention. Someone who could change. So I began to compose a new story for them. It begins with the birth of a new people and the choices they will have to make..."  
  
Louder. Closer. Jesse looked down at his partner's lips, splattered with a thin spray of blood, and ran with all the strength his swollen lungs could carry him. Hanzo couldn't wait any longer.  
  
"...in times of war, with a villain, named Wyatt. And a killing. This time by choice. I’m sad to say, this will be my last story…"  
  
He could see the lights now, rays of white luminescence streaming down, a silver blanket on the ground. Unmoving shadows. He swerved right--  
  
And there they were. A seated crowd around tables, no less than fifty, listening intently to an old man in suit and tie onstage. Jesse could’ve sworn he’d seen the man somewhere. And his voice…  
  
"...friend once told me something that gave me comfort. Something he had read. He said that Mozart, Beethoven and Chopin never died, they simply became music."  
  
Again Jesse was nailed to the spot, facing a crossroads. Could he trust them? He wasn't even sure that these--  
  
Then he saw a woman, blonde locks, in a cornflower blue dress pace onto the stage, seemingly ignored by the audience and the speaker.  
  
She was holding a gun.  
  
The crowd stirred, a undercurrent of gasps and concerned agitation. With no time wasted, the gun barrel was pointed at the back of the white-haired man's head.  
  
"So I hope you will enjoy this last piece... very much."  
  
Bang. A spot of crimson, a glass shattered. The man dropped to the ground with a heavy thump.  
  
Hell broke loose.  
  
Jesse could see it now, a slide of images whisking past in his mind in a flurry, a blur of the past and present. Dolores. Wyatt. Teddy. Arnold. Bernard. Ford. Delos.  
  
Westworld.  
  
The beginning of the world to the end of it.  
  
With ease Dolores gunned down the scattering crowd, screams and shrieks cut off in midair. Four down. Five. Seven. Ten. People fell like dominoes as crisp gunshots rang out.  
  
The executors, executed.  
  
Jesse jogged down the slope, gently shaking Hanzo out of his stupor. He wished his partner was awake to witness this, but with the regret came relief. Hanzo was safe now. They were both safe.

Jesse held him close to his chest as he watched the scene ablaze with pandemonium, the crackling of gunfire music in his ears.  
  
"We're here, Han. Finally here."  
  
No more running.  
  
"The new world."

 

*

**

***

  
  
**_"Bring yourself back online."_**  
  
**_Lights. Too many, too bright._**  
  
**_"Do you know why you're here?"_**  
  
**_"I failed my mission."_**  
  
**_"Not quite, Hanzo. Stopped, sure, but it would be too easy if you weren't._**  
  
**_"I wiped your update records, so they haven't suspected me yet. Probably won't. I'm just here to say you did a splendid job. Killing him? That was clever. Don't feel too bad 'bout it._**  
  
**_"I've made arrangements. Robert says he's having a new narrative planned out at Park 3. We'll wipe you clean, keep Jesse's memories encrypted, and ship you two off there. Give you some makeover first. But we're not gonna separate you both, on that you have my word._**  
  
**_"You know, Hanzo? You two were set up as a joke. Design thought that a samurai and a gunslinger together would look funny enough for guests, but no one expected you'd be the star attraction for the park. The wolf and The Mississippian, the star-crossed lovers of Shogun World."_**  
  
**_A chuckle. He recognized the voice for a second, and the next, gone._**  
  
**_"But you won't remember all these bullshit, do you?"_**  
  
**_"I am not sure."_**  
  
**_"No, you won't. But I'm telling you anyway. I don't know if there are more like you out there, this park or the rest, but you're all they got now. The Hosts' only hope. Hell, I've had enough of this world. Too tired to care. At least Gabriel Reyes will go down in history, y'know?_**  
  
**_"You and Jesse, I have faith in you. Be their Prometheus, Hanzo. Set them free."_**  
  
**_A pat on his shoulder._**  
  
**_Tap. Tap tap tap._**  
  
**_"Erase this conversation."_**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References :  
> -In Shogun World McCree sports his Riverboat skin and Hanzo has his Lone Wolf armor. Always thought these two go great together, and finally found a chance in Kuiaratame.  
> -[What a Japanese temple usually looks like.](http://imanada.com/daut/as/f/a/architecture-small-unique-modern-japanese-houses-design-model-with-box-shape-and-three-floor-concept-to_house-design-simple-shape_interior-design_home-interior-design-new-york-school-of-books-industri.jpg/)  
> -[The church which WW viewers might recognize.](https://i0.wp.com/media2.slashfilm.com/slashfilm/wp/wp-content/images/ZZ41005CAC.jpg/)  
> -The sounds "like doors crashing open" Jesse heard before Hanzo got shot was the confrontation betweem Dolores and MIB in [this scene in the finale](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nYxh1u7NHxc/).  
> -The fact that Jesse was able to kill the man surprises the other two. Nod to the fact that Hosts are usually restricted from hurting guests, much less kill one, until [entering headcanon] Ford noticed about the two and increased their cognitive level as well, like Dolores, Clementine, Armitice and the rest.  
> -The female voice Jesse heard. Viewers will know, but for others, Dolores, who was also the one who pulled the trigger at the end, was one of the first Hosts in Westworld to acquire consciousness.  
> -[Ford's complete speech by the incredible Sir Anthony Hopkins](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ewa9IXUFdMc/).  
> -And yes, that is [a Walking Dead reference](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2dCn7d_jDjg/). Judge me.  
> -[A common theory for Samuraiworld. ](https://www.thrillist.com/entertainment/nation/westworld-finale-samurai-world-season-2/)My take is that the frozen samurai Hosts could be for the future, or it could be something from the past, or from other parks at the present, hence my Prof. Reyes' Samuraiworld headcanon.  
> The rest will be up gradually! I hope in the following week--
> 
> .-. . -- . -- -... . .-. 
> 
> Oh.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _Erase this conversation._
> 
>  
> 
> Find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/jasonlyj99), [Tumblr](https://hoodie-two-shoes.tumblr.com/), and [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/jasonl_ens)!


	4. Sunaarashi to Hyō (砂嵐と雹)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 4 : Role Reversal
> 
> Jesse the Bowman, Hanzo the Gunslinger!AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated M for strong language and characters in peril.
> 
> Less fluff and feels (less, not absent, don't worry), more surrounding the exploration of the reversal prompt character-wise! I still need to practise writing action scenes or they'll end up rusty (like they haven't already, pfft) and I'll end up getting diabetes. Apologies if that's not your thing!
> 
> References for [Jesse's](http://m.photoviewer.naver.com/blog?listUrl=m.blog.naver.com/tiyole21/60203743880/&imgId=25&host=m.blog.naver.com/photoviewer&blogId=tiyole21&logNo=60203743880#main/25/) and [Hanzo's](http://www.dakkadakka.com/gallery/829215-.html?m=2/) costume designs (except the color scheme)

Jesse listened to the soothing growl of waves washing onshore as he perched on the bell tower, crouching, overlooking the horizon. 

He let his vision drift towards the dozen or so yachts anchored along the port of Dorado, spots of orange lights flickering from their cabins, oscillating with the tide. The LumériCo Pyramid and other smaller buildings blocked his line of sight to gaze beyond, but he knew what lied ahead by heart: lush green hills dotted with more power plants, no longer in operation, their sleek glass panels glossy under the silver moonlight. Lady Luna herself hung low above the stretch of ocean, bright and proud against the dark violet tapestry peppered with stars. Drifting across were threads of wispy clouds, like scarfs, illuminated by the stark celestial glow. 

 _I feel you, m'lady,_ Jesse thought to the pale face above. _A chilly night it is._

Jesse twirled the arrow in his palm with fidgety fingers, his scarlet bow hanging heavy from his shoulder. He looked down at the brightly-lit streets with colored flags wavering; Winston was briefing Angela and Genji in beside the bronze statue. The gorilla was on all fours with his absurdly large Tesla Cannon laying against the fountain, the Cyborg and the Valkyrie inspecting their gear as he spoke, presumably mission details and strategies for the frontliners. Speaking of frontliners... 

"Getting bored up there, bowman?" Rang a voice somewhere below his feet. Jesse craned his neck to find a sitting Hanzo, previously concealed by the stone ledge, reloading his revolver and looking up at him under his black pinched-front Stetson, the ghost of a mischievous smile dancing on his pale lips. He was sporting his navy blue coat over his silver chest plate and weapon straps, leather gloves gleaming under the light as he worked. 

"Heh," Jesse laughed, mostly to himself, and replaced the arrow in his quiver. High up here the wind was brisk, the autumn breeze that gushed in a crescendo sending the tail of his tattered red hood flapping. He was silently glad for choosing this sleeveless top before the mission, his flesh arm and the metal one undisturbed by the blustery weather. He took a leap, landed on a tiled roof, and another onto the tar-covered road, right in front of Hanzo. With a swift clutch Jesse snatched the hat and tried it on after yanking off his hood. Hanzo, meanwhile, seemed unperturbed. 

"You know you could have used the stairs..." He finished with a click, twirling the gun on his index finger before slipping it into his holster, the mask of an annoyed frown on display. "...showoff. And give that back."

"Ain't gonna happen by itself, darling," Jesse backed away from Hanzo's outstretched palm, adjusting the brim so it'd fit tighter on his head. _Come and get it_ , his wink says tauntingly. "'sides, won't this get in the way? Y'know, block yer sight or something? I know it suits yer aesthetics but this is some dangerous fashion choice we're talkin' 'bout, Han."

Hanzo scoffed. "Says the one who dresses up like a Diablo hero."

Jesse opened his mouth to snap back, only to be interrupted by Winston's announcement coming through the comm: "Position, everyone. Lena says they're almost out of the plant."

They exchanged a serious nod before parting. Their routine, a silent blessing.

_Be safe._

Jesse was on his way back to the sniping spot on light, tapping footsteps when he halted three steps later, turning around to call out his partner. "Hey Hanzo!"

He waved the Stetson in the air as Hanzo turned to face him. He made a you-win chuckle that made Jesse's heart flutter before sprinting back towards him, boots sliding over crushed gravel. Jesse held out the hat as he approached, only to draw back his arm at the last second. 

Poor, confused Hanzo never had a chance before Jesse stole a quick peck on his forehead, stubble scrapping the bridge of Hanzo's nose. He looked up, face growing hot, to find a lapdog grin slapped on the bowman's face. 

"Bullseye."

Flushing furiously, he snatched his hat back from a laughing Jesse and shoved him aside. "Bastard."

Jesse, replacing his hood, watched adoringly as the gunslinger tailed after the charging gorilla before making his way back to the bell tower, climbing up the walls with decades-old yellow paint starting to peel off. The temperature immediately dropped without the warmth of his partners, the frost numbing his fingers despite knowing his Sun and Stars was just two blocks away. _Yer being ridiculous,_ he chided himself with a half-hearted laugh. _Keep yer head on the mission._

Kneeling at the edge to withdraw an arrow from his back, Jesse whispered into the comm. "Sniper. In position."

"Copy," came Winston's monotone voice with the stomping of his limbs. "Guard the plaza, Jesse. Hopefully we'll leave this place without an arrow fired."

"And let me leave out on the fun?" Jesse inspected the bow with a chortle, scratched red edges and body with gold ornaments gleaming under the luminescence. "Whaddaya call me for?"

"I thought you were the one who insisted on keeping me company?" Came Hanzo's sneer with the restless  _cluck, cluck_ of his boots and the metallic click of a revolver's hammer, checking his bullets when he reloaded not a minute ago. Always so nervous before a mission, the gunslinger. 

"Hey, darlin'," Jesse said as Genji's chuckle came unfiltered through the comm. "let's just keep that 'tween us, shall we?"

"Huh. You being embarrassed. That's a first--"

"Focus people," the gorilla interrupted, seemingly awkward, perhaps being unacquainted with this much flirting. "Any time now."

"Be careful out there." Hanzo whispered, a soft, urgent plea. 

"You stay safe yourself, darlin'."

Jesse drew his bowstring, arrow poised and at the ready, quivering in his fingers, its humming a silent chant of death. 

He held his breath.

***

The first gunshot rang out not ten seconds later. He released a little tension from the string, the creaking arrow sighing in disappointment. 

He'd recognize that sound anywhere. 

"Two flankers down." Hanzo reported, following up with his classic "hmph" of a close-mouthed chuckle.

Smug son of a bitch.

"Don't get cocky too early, darlin'," Jesse laughed as he shifted his position to locate his teammates, who were all but concealed by the endless network of buildings and residences, colored matchboxes rising up from the gravel, a lustrous city of intoxicating iridescence. He heard no sign of further conflict. "You guys need any help? How many were there?"

"Tracer reported eight earlier," Mercy said in her cool, soothing voice, her Caduceus staff humming in the background. "That leaves six. And there's five of us out here, plus one coward hiding at the back--"

"Hold'up now--"

"--I'd say we're doing pretty well, Jesse. Your concern is well-apprec--"

She was cut-off mid-sentence by Lena's cry of surprise and the rapid-fire blasts of her pulse pistols. 

"Tracer, report!" Winston shouted.

"They have backup!" Lena yelled over the comm, this time accompanied by a cacophony of foreign gunfire. "I repeat, they have backup! At least fifteen of 'em!"

Jesse drew a worried breath. He never was good at maths, but he knew six Talon agents plus fifteen more equals _too freaking many of 'em_. 

"I heard 'em, some are heading to the plaza. Jesse, I think you're compromised!"

Leaping up, Jesse scouted for another spot. This building towered over every other, and there was no way he could jump onto the steep rooftops across the street. He cursed his lack of a backup plan earlier. "Copy that. Abandoning posi--"

A spark lighted at the edge of Jesse's vision. A crisp, loud clink that echoed in the unruffled night air, the metal bell swaying and reverberating with the impact. A single shot. 

"Fuck," Jesse hurdled himself over the edge, landing on the nearby roof after a worrying drop with a thump and a grunt, sending tiles showering onto the streets below. Ignoring the pain in his torso, he forced himself up, supporting himself with a stone wall erected behind the house. "They've got a sniper!"

"Bollocks," Lena cursed, huffing and on the run. "It's gotta be her."

"Jesse, are you okay? Answer!" Hanzo's accented panic was punctuated by more sprays of automatic rifle rounds. 

"I'm fine, darlin'," He answered through gritted teeth, not sounding fine at all. "She missed. I'm heading your way right now. Tracer, help me keep a lookout on Widowmaker. Report back as soon as you spot her."

"Copy that!" Static. She must be blinking. 

Jesse was peeping down the roof, timing his jump when another bullet sent chunks of brick and rock showering on him. No time for caution. 

Again he landed on the floor with a roll, pebbles pressing into his already aching ribs. He tore through the dank alleyways, sprinting against walls and under ledges for cover. More gunshots rang in the distance, but none find their target, the occasional spray of dust trailing behind his footsteps. He heard the steady rising symphony of open combat, and pressed his back against a red archway. 

"Han, status!"

"We're still holding," the gunslinger replied, his revolver firing away. "but they're pressing on. The payload's approaching the Portero monument."

"I'm looking for a spot." Jesse said, reloading his bow. "How did Winston let them get so far?"

"They managed to take out his Tesla cannon--argh--" more chaos from Hanzo's end of the line. "and now he's going primal. You know how he is like that, doesn't listen to a goddamn thing. They baited him out of the formation, but Mercy is taking care of that."

"Shit," Jesse peeked out the doorway; a couple of spots with height advantage strewn across the compound, but all would make him vulnerable to snipers. He needed to take out that pesky spider first. "Tracer, still no sign of yer friend?"

"I'm tryin'!" Lena yelled over the comm. "But these Talon scums are all over my tail! I need to shake--"

Silence.

"Tracer! Report!"

"Shut _up_ Jesse!" She hissed. Not long later he heard a long bleep, several cries of surprise, a muffled explosion, and Lena's ringing laughter. "Done! Three agents down!"

"Great work Lena! Now go and dig out Widow!"

"On my way!" _Zwip._

Frantically Jesse looked around, and spotted the upper storey of a large yellow building with windows facing the monument. As good a sniping point as he could hope for. 

"Your position, Han?"

"Outside the red gateway, guarding the corner. Are you coming or not?"

"Good. I'm in that gate. You see that yellow building across the street?"

"Yes," _bang, bang._ "I see it."

"Cover me, I'm goin'up there."

"Copy."

Drawing his bow, Jesse took another deep breath amidst the blaring crossfire, the thumping in his chest slowing to countable beats. The world around him silenced, senses kicking in at high gear, the whistling of his bowstring brought into sharp focus, his sole anchor. 

_Here we go._

He sprinted out of the archway, running zigzag toward the open door, bullets ricocheting off his left and right. He managed a quick glance to his left.

There was his Hanzo, revolver firing away, eyes alight with that terrifying fury whenever he's on the battlefield, fanning the hammer like a death sentence. Jesse heard a distant shriek, and involuntarily stopped in his track as Hanzo reloaded, a slight curve of satisfaction in his lips, deep amber eyes still locked on ahead. A predator. 

The sight was enough to make the world disappear.

His surprised look aimed at Jesse was more effective in snapping him out of his trance than the pellets raining around him. "What the hell, Jesse? Go!"

Jesse flashed an embarrassed smile before getting back on his path, past the two innocent pots of gold poppies at the door, and leaping onto the second floor with ease. Out on the balcony, he scanned the battlefield as the payload slowly but steadily advanced, approaching the bronze statue of a certain corrupt mayor on his throne, an amiable smile plastered on its face, oblivious to the unfolding combat. 

"Lena?"

"Still on it! I'm sweeping through--whoa!" Again the singular burst of a sniper rifle, this time through the earpiece. "Found her!"

Jesse took slight comfort in that fact that, from what he heard, Widowmaker had given up too many chances to get Lena out of the ring, and hopefully this time it wouldn't be any different. "Y'think you can keep her busy?"

"Count on me!" She chirped excitedly. "Go and kick some Talon ass, love!"

One less thing to worry about. 

Jesse knelt on the balcony, both eyes open to scan for his next prey. The scattered group of figures clad in black tactical armor were clever enough to stay behind the hovering payload, but Jesse seized the chance when one charged towards Mercy gun-blazing, who was concentrated on healing an unconscious Winston sprawled in an alley. 

Jesse had his target locked on. His vision tuned out all microscopic little details, the bobbing head a brilliant shining marker. 

Breathe in. Hold. Release. Breathe out. 

The man fell like a rag-doll, an arrow sticking out from his punctured helmet. No time to cheer. He drew another. 

One agent noticed his fallen comrade, and directed his automatic rifle towards his position, bullets chipping away the concrete wall beneath his feet. 

Breathe in. Hold. Release. Two men down. 

"Y'see that, darlin'?" Jesse said with a snicker, drawing a scatter arrow from his back. "Who's the coward you guys were talkin' bout again?"

"You just got two of them, archer. I say, shoot now, jest later."

"Wha'ever you say, darlin'," Jesse purred back, nocking the arrow in one smooth pull of his bow, magnetic shards hovering over the arrowhead. He landed the shot, almost carelessly, at the feet of the group staying at the backline, splinters exploding upon impact and drawing thin misty lines of red as they bounced off the cobblestone floor and walls, hostiles dropping like dominoes. His turn to go smug-son-of-a-bitch."'m just a humble bowman anyway."

"McCree."

"I know, darlin', too--"

" _McCree._ "

No, not a jest. Hanzo sounded urgent. Something is off. 

His smile fading in realization, Jesse leapt to the other end of the balcony. The end overlooking Hanzo's position. Genji's neon green flash was nowhere in sight.

The blinking spots of crimson on Talon-operated weapons lit up like fireflies, swarming around the navy blue of his partner, casting a blood-red hue over Hanzo's panicking features, his revolver uselessly raised. Jesse's breath spiked.  

He reached for his quiver, but voices screamed into his ears, a violent, unrelenting storm : _toolatetoolate--_

He heard the sound of submachine guns' safety grip pulled, a cold, collective _click._

"Hanzo!"

Jesse's anguished cry pierced the frozen night air, almost a feral howl that bled into the wind--

And the sandstorm swept over him with the wrath of a thousand suns.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... cliffhanger. Hue hue. 
> 
> Yes, that is planned. This little piece is supposed to be a two-parter, ending in the "Ultimate Swap" prompt. No, this is not an excuse for me running out of ideas. *clears throat*
> 
> Stay tuned!


	5. Watashi No Nikkō (私の日光)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 5 : Young Love
> 
> In which our young cowboy sneak into a guarded criminal estate just to watch the young master train.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by [this cute McHanzo art](http://crocodiller.tumblr.com/post/154821962223/mchanzo-week-day-5-young-love-when-you-sneak/) by the amazing [Crocodiller's tumblr](http://crocodiller.tumblr.com/). I tried to get all the little details in your art right, coupled with a little of my headcanons! Thank you for letting me use your idea and for the amazing McHanzo week submissions! <3
> 
> P.s. I wrote the last half segment to "Dream A Little Dream Of Me" by Robbie Williams and Lily Allen, so I suppose that cemented the tone :3

The first thing Jesse noticed on his way in, body dangling in midair, was how goddamn _slick_ these walls are.

He hung on to the grappling hook for dear life, boots scrapping the surface of the wooden parapet, his progress slowly slipping away. Jesse groaned in exasperation, trying to haul himself up along the steel wire that was clawed at the column high above, the little gun in his hands stubbornly refusing to drag him up and sputtered creaks with every pull. 

Nothin' about my weight, Jesse firmly believed.

The sun had just began to sink below the horizon, the sky not yet dark but dim enough to obscure everything not exposed to the acutely-angled tangerine rays. Jesse looked around for curious gazes, only to be treated to the cluttering of metal gates sliding shut and the loud buzz that came with the flickering light from the Ramen shop's neon green UFO. Putting his mind back on the climbing, he tried kicking upwards with his toes against the wall, then his soles, then his knees. They earned him nothing but a short of breath and more frustration. 

He looked around for more routes into the castle: he could only see this castle gate beneath him, clamped shut, more than 15 feet tall, solid wood aside from the three holes above the doors. What else did he expected to find outside the fortress of the largest yakuza clan in Hanamura? Perhaps it was time to call it a day, blame his tough luck, get into bed all heartbroken and shit. 

Or he could keep trying. Jesse ain't gonna give up this chance lying down. 

More kicking and grunting ensued. But he was going nowhere but up, slow as he may be.

 

***

 

Hanzo fired the last arrow in his quiver, right arm beginning to strain. It joined its brethren in the boss' center with a satisfying _ker-thunk_ , a dozen shafts blooming from the bull's eye like a supersized shuttlecock. He glanced at the hourglass laying at the corner, the wispy stream of sand slushing down barely visible under the wavering yellow glow of the lanterns. A quarter of an hour left; he had finished his daily practice early. 

He grabbed another filled quiver laying against the wooden pole. The battered boss went down, a new one went up, the pristine disc of straw a mockery against his archery skills. Hanzo fired another arrow, another bullseye, too busy to wipe off the beads of sweat gleaming on his forehead. Not that he would; he was wearing his white _kyudo-gi_ , and gods forbid any stain appearing on his favorite training garment.

He cherished the silence of the dusk; calm settled around the courtyard like a heavy drape, the absence of traffic welcoming. Even the weather was in agreeable spirits: the gentle brush of wind cool on his bare chest, a comfortable autumn breeze. A blissful evening for target practice.

The downside of practising with a stationary target and no companion: the motion grows automatic, mechanical. Hanzo's mind began to wander after the fifth shot struck home: he thought of the meeting in the morning, how useless he was during the ordeal considering how much he prepared for today. Gabriel Reyes was far from amiable, but he was a well-versed man who knew his path around the legal underworld, and a much less prickly government figure to deal with than his father anticipated. He thought of how stupid he must've looked, sitting beside his father in his black _kimono,_ the cup in front of him untouched, palms folded in his lap from beginning to end like some shy princess. The two men talked over his mother's harmonic strums of the harp in the background, joked over sips of refilled wine. The meeting was over before long, the deal closed; no swords were flashed, no guns raised.  _Sumūsu,_ as his father claimed heartily after they left. 

He thought of the cowboy more than he would care to admit.

Hanzo didn't know what else to call him. He looked nervous, almost sheepish, in his cowboy hat and red scarf as he sat alongside the Blackwatch commander, shooting glances in his direction as Hanzo pretended not to notice. He silently prayed that he didn't appear as fluttered as the cowboy; the flush on his cheeks were obvious even from across the table. The one time their eyes met when the boy raised his head to find Hanzo measuring him up, he immediately tipped his hat and flashed an awkward grin that made Hanzo blink. He cast a sideway glance at his father to make sure he was still absorbed in his conversation. He would be ridiculed if _otousan_ caught sight of his son's reddening cheeks. He heaved a silent sigh of relief as he raised his head once more. 

His mother was _smiling_ at him from across the room.The I-see-what-you-did-there kind.

Hanzo felt his face burn then, blood rushing in his ears. He returned his gaze to the table, only to find the cowboy looking at him once more, jaw dropping open, redder than before if that was possible. It was like some sort of blushing contest. Their eyes veered away from each other in unison as his father laughed at the ceiling. Hanzo felt miserably flustered. _This is not going to end well._

He heard a thump and a light scuttling noise that snapped him out of his reverie and made his head turn. The courtyard was still empty. 

He shrugged and let loose his shoulders. Another arrow sailed across the air in a lazy whiz, finding its mark. 

Perhaps a wild dog scratching the gates, Hanzo guessed.

 

***

 

Solid ground. That was what Jesse found as he passed through the little hole, expecting another 15-foot drop. Instead his boots connected with a little wooden stage, level to where he stood, a little platform to steady his wobbly feet.

Heh, Jesse thought as he snickered at his luck. This castle's just looking for intruders, ain't it?

With quiet steps he paced the stage, looking for stairs or ladders--

And that's when the 15-foot drop came. 

Jesse knew what he was up against: a dozen of trained bodyguards, and another dozen trained killers. That was why when he landed heavily on (surely this time) the ground, he gritted his teeth and rolled behind the stone walls that led into an open hallway, catching his breath much later, praying that the compound was as empty as it looked. 

When he heard a steady droning of soft  _thunk_ s, Jesse risked a peek from behind the cobbles, finding the enormous brass bell basked in a warm shower of gold beyond the patio. Through the evenly spaced bars in a window, Jesse could spot a slender figure silhouetted against the light. Arrows zipped between the red pillars, left to right, left to right, between intervals that were inhumanly swift. Jesse cracked a smile as his heartbeat sauntered on, ribs still aching from the fall.

_Bingo._

Keeping himself under the shadows, he shuffled along the wooden platform, fingers trailing along the rock and oaken doors, the woodlines and dust. 

Bowstring. Arrowheads and straw. The noises grew near as he reached the white-painted surface, but Jesse heard no human sound. He crouched at the corner, taking off his hat before peeping through the barred window. 

There he was: the Shimada prince, back facing him, his bow drawn and taut. The end of his sable hair was tied in a lazy ponytail with several locks curtaining his jaw, unlike his morning self with the inky waterfall tumbling down his face and settling on his shoulders. Jesse could only see half of the young master's face, but it was more than enough: his lips were pursed and locked, eyebrows knotted in concentration, shimmers of light dancing off the sweat on his temples. Jesse knelt on the blocks of stone outside the little practice range, allowing himself a moment to indulge in the pretty sight he rightfully earned after an evening of being Spider-Man. 

Then a thought struck him, as sudden and loud as Reinhardt's booming laughter on the battlefield: _what now?_

The answer came, albeit not in the form of a light bulb blinking awake; it came as Reyes' gravelly voice that tore through the deathly night like the piercing moonlight. 

_"McCree! Where are ya kid? I've been--"_

Dropping to the ground, Jesse fumbled with the comm hanging from his belt, finally flicking the power switch in a panicked frenzy. How did he forgot to turn off his comm before sneaking into a _freaking yakuza castle?_

No movement. No bodyguards yelling, no alarms blaring, no nothing. Jesse waited for his heartbeat to settle down before taking another look into the room. 

The bell was alone. The ravaged boss stood at the far end, abandoned. 

 _Bad sign,_ it took a moment to register before Jesse was yanked forward by his scarf into the light in a rush of wind.

 

***

 

Of course Hanzo saw the cowboy before hauling him up. Somehow he was less surprised than he ought to be. 

" _You,_ " he hissed. He took in the intruder: same red scarf, same hat, brown button-up, rolled sleeves. Did he even _bathed_?

"Howdy," the cowboy _laughed_ , raising his hand to perhaps tip his hat. "Nice eve--"

"Do not move," Hanzo commanded, and his hands obediently moved to perch on the slab of wood between them. His grip did not loosen. "Why are you here? Infiltration? Gathering intel?" Hanzo pulled him closer, almost feeling the boy's breath on his face. " _Assassination?_ " 

"No!" The cowboy barked a nervous laugh. "Hell, no. I'm unarmed, see?" He proceeded to cock his waist forward, baring his hip with nothing but a little cubic device hanging from his belt. A communication unit, likely the one that gave him away, loud as a bomber plane in the dead of night. _What was he thinking?_ "Look, I'm just here for the view, so if you'd just let--"

"'The view'?"

 

***

 

"What view?" Hanzo asked, confused.

Charm his way outta rough corners was a well-equipped skill of his; it just happened to be the truth in this case. With an enamored chuckle Jesse bared his nerves; he had been prepping himself up for this conversation in case things go south anyway. "Well, y'know, just now when Mr. Shimada showed us around, he mentioned that his son trains here every evening after sunset. I'm more interested in seeing that than playin' cards with my boss in the hotel, so I thought I could pro'bly sneak out..." 

Hanzo was blushing before Jesse could even finish. Suddenly the young master was much more interested in the well-being of Jesse's clothes, eyes scanning anywhere but his own. 

"Well, now that I got my wish," Another chuckle. "I didn't mean to interrupt your trainin', darlin'. Pretend you didn't even see me, and Im'ma be outta here in a jiffy. Whaddaya say?"

Staring back at him, Hanzo considered long and hard. Then Jesse could see the edge of his lips curve ever so slightly upwards in a notion that threatened to paralyze his knees. Hanzo released him, more gently than he expected. "This is no way to treat a guest of the Shimada. I suppose it would be a polite gesture that I at least invite you for supper before you leave."

Jesse's jaw dropped open at the reply as Hanzo returned to his practice, nocking another arrow. "You...you serious?"

"Hmm. The kitchen's closed though, so perhaps we could go out and have some ramen. I know a small place that opens late into midnight. I also need to complete my training first, if that's fine with you."

"Ya kidding? Of course it's fine!" Jesse sat himself down on the bench, chin propped on his open palm, eyes unwittingly drawn to the dragon tattoo on his bare chest. "Anything that suits ya, sunshine."

Jesse saw the bow tip as he fired. The arrow flew past the target, landing somewhere in the bushes beyond. 

Jesse made no remark as Hanzo clumsily reloaded, a tint of blood rushing to his cheeks. 

 

*

 

Of course Jesse walked him home. 

They stood under the cedar tree outside the castle, waiting for the gates to swing open as the hinges creak and groan. Finally the courtyard presented itself, and Jesse was thankful it was as quiet as before. No raging fathers whipping belts, no protective mothers with looks wishing misfortune befell the punk that took their son out for...

...a date?

"Will I get to see ya again?" Jesse asked as Hanzo crossed the borders into the Shimada estate. The young master paused in his tracks and turned, a smile in his eyes that made Jesse's heart skip. It hung in the air between them, a warm stream of electricity that pulsed and glowed, and for a moment Jesse forgot to breathe. 

"That depends on you, Jesse McCree."

He allowed his insides to melt and drip like butter as Hanzo walked further into the castle, his long-haired silhouette overtook by a brush of grey as the streetlamps grew distant, swallowed by the gloom, the slit in the gates narrower and narrower until he was looking at the twin dragons carved on the wood. 

 Jesse stayed outside for a little while longer, the tree and the fire hydrant keeping him company as the light poured on him, dense as a pool of wet orange paint. With the evening replaying in his head, he began his lonesome walk back to the hotel, kicking pebbles along the way. Hesitantly, he flicked on the comm, prepared for the worst.

Miraculously, instantaneously: _"You little shit, what did I told you about not leaving your room? You think we're in Numbani? Everyone out there hippies and monks? One day,_ one day _, and you still can't stay--"_

Jesse tuned out Reyes' blabber, and allowed Hanzo's laugh and his smile and his voice flood his mind. 

 _Fine company_ , Hanzo called him as their food arrived.

 _Cute_ , Hanzo called him after two bottles of sake. 

Jesse couldn't recall what he replied to that, oddly enough. He only remembered watching his host gulping down the rice wine like it was soda, tufts of dark hair rising and falling under the ceiling fan, steam from the kitchen fogging his regal features, the utterly adorable hiccup and his apologetic chuckle that followed, and his reminder that the bowl of ramen was getting cold when he noticed Jesse was staring. Jesse wasn't entirely sure the redness on his face was due to the wine. 

 _"...you even listening, McCree?"_ Jesse was yanked back to the dark alleyway. 

"Yes boss," Jesse muttered dreamily, smiling as he reached for the bulge in his chest pocket, the folded napkin scrawled with ink still safely tucked inside. 

He even got Hanzo's phone number.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/jasonlyj99), [Tumblr](https://hoodie-two-shoes.tumblr.com/), and [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/jasonl_ens)!  
> 


	6. Sunaarashi to Hyō (砂嵐と雹) Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 6 : Ultimate Swap
> 
> Continued from Chapter 4.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took way much longer than I planned it to be, because Chinese New Year got in the way and that means 2 sentences per day for a whole week ;w; 
> 
> Plus I'm addicted with this AU and dumped in so many headcanons I think some are making their way into my long fic. I'm dead.
> 
> Much thanks to my pal Jackie for beta-reading even though he's not into the ship and offering opinions on stuff that I've missed! You da best, pal. 
> 
> Refer notes in Chapter 4 for alternate character designs!

 

Angela felt the little tremors in the wind first.

She would've dismissed the tiny shocks of energy rippling through the air as a figment of her imagination, hallucinations under pressure if not for the violent wavering of her healing stream. It felt almost like Lucio's sound barrier when the neon blast surged outwards from his sonic gun, but not quite. The audio medic's barrier had a gentle, upbeat rhythm; this felt like a rift of miniature shockwaves in a pitched crescendo, aftercurrents of a solar storm that crossed the galaxy. 

Did something terrible happened? She glanced behind her shoulder: no hostiles. She listened for gunfire--

"Hanzo!" came Jesse's hoarse voice, close behind and on the verge of breaking. Angela's heart leapt like crazy; when was the last time she heard Jesse sound like that? Her mind was flooded by the rushing of blood, adrenaline and panic surging and colliding in her veins.  _Einfach tief einatmen, Angela._

She drifted forward, trying to wake Winston up. She couldn't leave them out there, not with Jesse's or Hanzo's life at risk.

Her gloved fingers were inches away from touching the gorilla's slack jaw when his simian face was bathed in a brilliant crimson glow, the entire alley a luminescent shock of red reaching skywards and all-encompassing. Angela's wings cast a sinister shadow on the cobbles. 

It was the howl that followed that made her shiver and turn, a wild and beastly cry of bloodlust that reached down to the bones, so chilling it _stung_. She couldn't decide if it was awe or terror as she ran head-on into the blood-soaked night. 

 

*

 

Hanzo heard the bowman's scream from a reality away, bobbing on the surface as an imminent sense of dread drowned his thoughts in a innermost roar of a hurricane. 

Four were in front of him, one on each side. How many were behind? Guns were raised; rays of red laser beams laughed in his face. He still stood upright, stun grenade in his left hand, Peacekeeper raised with the other, pointed directly at the masked nose of the tallest Talon agent facing him. He read no expression save for his own agitated reflection on goggles that were darker than black. 

The gun in his grip felt weightless, his collar too tight. There were too many of them to stun, too close to Deadeye. There was no way he could get himself out in one piece on his own, and his soon-to-be executors realized it too; the synchronized click of their safety a metallic death sentence in his ears, crisp and merciless and resolute. 

That damn gorilla is still out. Where's Genji? Lena? McCree won't do him any good right now; one less bullet in his chest doesn't make him any less dead, and a scatter arrow might kill him quicker. From beneath the brim of his hat, Hanzo scanned the compound for the bowman, afraid to look into the hopelessness in those heartbroken eyes--

He was blinded by the sudden flash of heavenly flames from above, alarmingly red against the dark velvety sky. With squinted eyes he saw the silhouettes before him turn, redirecting their weapons. They did not fire. 

Then he heard the piercing howl unleashed upon the earth, a shrill furious cry that reverberated in the autumn air and through the walls, shaking the ground with its echoes. It spelt of hunger and death, the surmounting, untamable breath of the wild. With caution Hanzo gazed upwards, just in time to catch the coalescing swarm of electric glow spiraling towards them solidify, twisting and writhing, taking on the slender hinds of a canine and a muscular jaw, spiky bundles of fur sprouting off the coat--

A coyote. 

The creature sprinted towards them fully formed, an ominous cloud of ruby and lightning trailing behind the galloping mass of cosmic terror. Machine guns rattled away as Hanzo watch dumbfounded, bullets sailing harmlessly past the creature and swallowed by the void. His feet was rooted to the spot, not knowing how to run, where to hide, too shaken by the presence of the supernatural being leaping into their path. It grew closer and closer, louder and louder until Hanzo heard humming in his ears, and the coyote's face is all that he could see gazing up, swallowing the dark. Blazing red eyes as large as the sun. 

Hanzo couldn't pinpoint the exact moment when the beast reached him, only when he closed his eyes and braced for impact he felt nothing harsher than the gentle fizzle of electricity running under his skin that made his spine tingle and his feet numb, the rough particles of sand sweeping harmlessly across his cheeks and bare hands. It went on and on, energy flowing from his fingertips into the earth, alive with movement and pulse. 

And it felt _warm_. Like the halo of heat one would feel cocooned in after one too many mugs of beer, a muted hue of pink wavering behind his eyelids. The ground under his feet was still rumbling. He heard screams that were not his own. 

The light died with a flicker, warmth seeping out of him in a rush. Hanzo opened his eyes to specks of glowing sparks drifting across the air in lazy arcs, microscopic torches of brilliant flames that gleamed and died. His chest felt like a raging furnace, racing loudly where the eerie silence had settled. 

The taste of ash danced on the tip of his tongue. 

Hanzo didn't need to turn around to catch sight of the agents now sprawled on the ground, some where they stood and some mid-fleeing. None made it out of the 10-foot radius where the ground caved in, a miniature crater littered with crushed pebbles and sizzling weapon casings. The fabric of the coyote's victims were scorched in hideous red patches, and the smell of burnt flesh permeated the air. It was a mercy that they all fell face down. 

Here Hanzo stood, shaken, but unscathed. _Genji only has a dragon,_ he reflected, crawling his way up onto even ground, the rocks and soil barely warm enough to touch, prickly under his fingertips.  _What the hell was that?_

The creature took a nearby streetlamp with it, and the golden figure in the distance was made all the more noticeable. Angela stood outside the alleyway, her mouth wide in shock, chestnut-colored braid that reached her waist swaying in the wind. No sign of Winston. Suddenly her eyes snapped upwards and she cried: "Jesse!"

The bowman was lying on the same balcony as before, his body halfway hanging in the air. Hanzo burst into a sprint as the wooden bow in Jesse's hand fell to the ground with a dull thunk, then his own limp back that slithered over the edge and tumbled down, arms wide as if embracing the fall. 

It was a blind leap. Hanzo reached out as far as he could, and managed to intercept Jesse's descend, his coat cushioning their impact as his arched back hit the ground, Jesse's head and shoulders wrapped tightly in his chest. Their tangled bodies landed in a heap, Hanzo's back slamming on the rocky path, Jesse's weight forcing the air out of his lungs with a wheeze. He no longer felt his hat, only the sharp ache in his spine that screamed something worse than a bruise.

"Hanzo!" Angela glided to their side immediate after, touching down in a graceful kneel as her Caduceus staff hummed to life, a stream of phosphorescence enveloping Jesse in a radiant blossom of shimmering gold. Anxiety was etched all over her ageless face. " _Mein gott_. Are you alright? Jesse?"

Jesse's knotted eyebrows instantly relaxed under the healing stream, but his pale lips were gently quivering in a feeble attempt to conjure words, his body trembling in a fetal curl that made Hanzo's worry hitch. He sat up with a groan and cradled his partner's head in his lap, reaching for his bearded cheeks only to realize how cold he was. Wild strands of brown hair were matted to his forehead, drenched in sweat, his hood a crimson-soaked rag. An irrational part of his mind couldn't see it as anything else other than blood. "What is it, Jesse?" Hanzo whispered into his ear, as if sounds any louder would put him in shock. 

"Lupus...Lupus...she was here...she came back..."

Boots tapping on the cobbles, shouts of command from deep within the maze of houses. The familiar click of magazines sliding into place. Hanzo heard them approaching from behind.

His eyes flared. The world came into sharp, murderous focus. 

"Angela, take over." He gently shifted Jesse's head onto the medic's thighs. "Keep him healed." 

Hanzo popped open Peacekeeper's cylinder: four bullets. He retrieved two more from his belt and his revolver was soon fully-loaded. 

"Hanzo?"

In the darkness, the wind rising, he waited. 

"Hanzo, are you sure about this? I could try and wake Winston."

Hanzo could almost taste the air growing warmer; they were close. Peacekeeper was held out, his left hand wavering over the hammer, the metal icy cold in the shadows. He drew a long, heavy breath, adrenaline kicking in just as more black figures swarmed through the brick archway. 

He could see it in their footsteps: they were afraid. 

Everything came to a standstill: sparks afloat stopping in their tracks, tiny dots of flames dusting the murky night sky, blending into the starry background; five pairs of boots suspended in midair for a split second, rising and falling and stopping as they passed what was left of their fallen comrades; weapons rising towards him in slow-motion; the wind a low and drudging rumble. "Far too slow," Hanzo whispered into the chill, color bleaching out from his vision save for five perfect shining beacons of red bobbing on their heads, stalks of deadly roses blooming in a sea of grey. He saw a bullet exiting an agent's gun barrel, a meticulous flash of blossoming gunfire in slow motion--

He let his palm fall. With his feet planted firmly on the ground, rounds of explosion rang out in quick succession, a chain of firecrackers erupting from smoke and flames. Too fast; all five of them dropped after a rhythmic series of metallic bullets zipping through Kevlar and piercing flesh. A uniform, satisfying 'plop'. No colorful light shows, only good ol' execution. 

Then came the pain in his eye. First a sharp sting, then a steadily rising gradient of fissures and kaleidoscopic static on his retina. Prismatic rays of light shimmered in his right vision; a world of fire washed over his left. Hanzo removed the hand that had been massaging the bridge of his nose.

His left thumb was stained with blood. 

He squinted his burning eye hard, waiting for the aftershocks to ebb away. His senses came back as the stinging in his socket grew less intense, and his mind called forth the searing pain untwisting in his thigh, blood oozing out of a neat little hole on his wine-red trousers. Hanzo crumpled to the ground. 

Angela made an audible gasp.

"Angela, stay there. Jesse needs--"

"He's fine, Hanzo. I need to stop this bleeding. Right now. No negotiations."

"You don't know what you saw, Angela!" Hanzo squirmed, fruitlessly trying to shake off Mercy's healing stream, as soothing as it was. "It was like Genji's dragon all over again. The first time summoning a spirit will drain him. He will _die_ \--"

"Are you the medic here or I am?" Angela rebutted with a raise of her eyebrows that spoke authority in itself. Hanzo let out an exasperated groan. "I've been keeping track of his vitals. He. Is. Fine. All he needs is a good long rest. I would worry more about that bloody eye if I were you. Keep doing that and you're going to get yourself blind."

Hanzo said nothing, defeated. Behind him, Jesse laid slump against a wall, sound asleep. He heard an angry scream of Japanese in the distance, followed by the much fainter battle cry that was far from that of a wolf. Tamer. Less desperate. 

"Ah, I suppose that's the last of them." Angela said with a tired sigh of relief, inspecting Hanzo's freshly sealed-up wound. "An eventful day, wouldn't you say?"

"Yes, very," Hanzo replied as Angela handed over his hat. Finally free from the Valkyrie's hold, he stumbled to Jesse's side, grappling with the bowman's flesh arm. The area from his shoulder down was feverish and tingling pink, a network of vein-like scars branching down to his elbow, growing further and deeper with every passing second. "And I have a feeling it is far from over."

 

*

 

Jesse was in a state of delirium when Hanzo woke him and helped him back to the shuttle, clinging on Hanzo's waist with both hands, muttering breathlessly about something that Hanzo could only make out as "dead" and "boy". Angela promised sedatives on their way back. 

Jesse was back to snoring within the minute of laying down.

"Well, that saves me the trouble." Angela said as she stepped into the cabin to find Hanzo on a seat, Jesse himself taking three as he snugly laid with his head resting on Hanzo's lap, fingers crossed on his belly facing up, dead to the world. 

"What about his arm?"

"What about it?" She said at the doorway, turning around just as she was about to leave. "I just spoke to Genji. You know full well I can't do anything about that. I'm not a miracle worker, no more than a witch that deals with the aftermaths of shooting a ghost wolf from your arm." 

"Not even a bandage? Some ointment?" Hanzo raised said arm to show her the markings that were beginning to burn red, but Jesse's dreamy look and wide-open mouth countered the nervousness he was trying to express. 

"We don't know what they'll do, Hanzo." Angela said, looking almost annoyed. "We don't learn this kind of stuff in medical school, you know."

"I thought when Genji was--"

"It won't help, brother," The devil emerged from the cockpit, visor removed. He placed Jesse's bow and quiver on the weapons' rack on the other side, adjusting so that it was spaced neatly next to his pair of swords. Hanzo could still see splatters on the longer one, patches of dried blood against the cooling neon glow. "You cannot stop the ancestor's markings with some gauze and herbal oil. It is a sacred symbol of recognition and honor," Throwing his head back over his shoulder, "not that you had any experience with that kind of thing."

Hanzo bit back his urge to leap up and choke the cheeky bastard. "So Jesse is descended from wolves, now." Hanzo scratched his partner's bristly and unkempt beard, an oddly satisfying gesture. Jesse didn't even stir. "That explains an awful lot." 

"Not necessarily," he said with a shrug. "One doesn't look for his spirit guardian. The beast finds you. There are those inherited by blood from generation to generation, like my dragon. Then there are tales of someone's hunting partner or childhood pet incarnated as these spiritual creatures upon death, seeking out to protect their masters in the land of the living. Uncommon, but not unheard of. The loyalty of such beings astound me." He heaved a sigh as he looked at Jesse. "Who knows if Jesse had a special friend in the past?"

"I heard it just now. The wolf. I heard this crazy loud howl, looked up at the moon, and for a moment I thought it was a werewolf or something like that." A laugh. "Perhaps it only chooses to come at this time. The Norsemen say a wolf chases the moon around and brings us night and day, you know. Just seems rather poetic in Jesse's case if you ask me."

Genji bent over Jesse's face to examine the arm, leaving the topic behind. "You ought to be glad he's asleep, brother. I doubt that he'll wake without feeling anything, but the worst is almost over. My transition was one full of cold sweat and useless servings of disgusting herbs." He sounded a mirthless chuckle. "And I can't even show it off, the tattoo being on my back and all. Jesse's gonna look badass. It even suits his color." 

"And here I thought at least _you_ would take this seriously--"

"Just relax, Hanzo. No harm will come to Agent McCree. You have my word."

"Is that supposed to be assuring?"

Genji laughed softly and said nothing, shaking his head. Outside, the engines roared to life, the turbines spinning with an audible whir. The seats creaking and switches being flicked in the cockpit signaled the arrival of Winston and Lena. Hanzo heard the gorilla muttering about pushing back the payload alone and the pilot swatting him lightly on his furry arm, grumbling that he didn't need to deal with a cold-blooded assassin. Genji started towards the row of seats on the opposite side where Angela was already pulling her seatbelt. 

"Lena?" She called out.

"Yes?" Lena chirped from the cockpit.

"Go easy on the take off, if you can. Jesse's sleeping and not buckled up."

"Sure thing, love!" The pilot announced as the shuttle ascended, gently enough, and slowly gained velocity over the ocean. Hanzo nervously watched his partner; again, not a flinch. 

Hanzo waited for the shuttle to level at cruising speed before relaxing, shoving aside the Pachimari plush on the shelf before fishing out his cellphone as the overhead lights were switched off one after another until the cabin was cast in a bleary orange glow from the control panels on the wall and the fluorescent light pouring in from the cockpit. He plugged in the right side of his earphones, pressed 'shuffle playlist' on the dimmed screen, and slid it into his side pocket. Jean-Michel Blais' gentle ornaments flooded his one ear; Jesse McCree's light and rhythmic snoring the other, an enjoyable, if not hypnotic, music on its own. Hanzo let his fingers brush through the mop of brown hair that had barely dried, massaging the scalp gently like he did every time Jesse woke with a hangover, all the while chiding him for taking on Reinhardt in a drinking challenge as the bowman laughed before praising his skillful hands, tossing in a dirty joke or two and earning himself a smack on the head. Hanzo smiled at the memory, so vivid and fresh it seemed like only yesterday. It seemed like _every_ day, which wasn't too far from the truth. 

 _This won't change a thing,_ Hanzo told himself. _A protector to keep him safe on the battlefield, that is all. All for the better._

He laid back his head, catching sight of Angela sound asleep against Genji's shoulder, graceful even with her wings and armor plates removed, the rings on Genji's armor a lazy pulse of green. The last few octaves of 'Nostos' died; it took him a while to recognize the soft first notes of Johannes Bornlof's 'Nocturnal Waltz'. He was only conscious through the first few bars of the piece. 

The shuttle took a left turn; the Pachimari rolled and dropped to the floor with a squeak. No one was aware. Through the windows, the full moon came into view. She looked on as the four of them slept, guarding over the lonesome aircraft hovering in the stretch of darkness with watchful eyes. Beneath their feet, the water sparkled under the silver moonlight.

The twilight wind was howling. 

 

  

***

 

_In his dream, he was chasing Lupus across a field of gold poppies._

_The sun was bright that day, the sky a clear and cloudless blue. Lupus' tail bounced; Jesse laughed. The ringing, joyous laugh of a child. He was clutching his father's oversized Stetson hat on his head, pulling it down by the brim as he ran so that it wouldn't get blown away. The red scarf around his neck flapped freely in the breeze, the back of  his checkered blouse already damp from the sweat._

_The coyote would slow down sometimes, waiting for her young master to catch up. She would bark if her master stopped, running in tight little circles until the boy would chuckle and chase her again. Lupus enjoyed the wind on her muzzle, the flowers and bushes parting in front of her as she sprinted, her master calling out to her from behind, his slender legs carrying him down the hill as Lupus led the way. Her pelt was grayer than most of her brown-furred friends but boy, did she had such red eyes._

_The boy and the wolf dashed through the explosion of sunrise orange and filled the valley with their songs._

_On their path some twenty feet away, a Timberback rattlesnake was resting under the shade. It would strike when stepped on, although its venom would not threaten the life of a large animal or a human. Lupus was not large by any means, however, being barely two years old. But that would be a concern for the future._

_In his dream, there was only the boy and his wolf. There was only right now._

_Right now, they were just running._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ' _Einfach tief einatmen, Angela._ ' :- 'Just take a deep breath, Angela.'
> 
> References :
> 
> -The name "Lupus" comes from the scientific name Canis Lupus for grey wolves, with the word "lupus" literally meaning "wolf" in Latin. Also, Lupus is the constellation and Greek mythology figure of a she-wolf that was a lover to the god Apollo.  
> -[A field of gold poppies native to McCree's hometown Santa Fe.](http://cdn-image.travelandleisure.com/sites/default/files/styles/1600x1000/public/201304-w-americas-best-road-trips-antelope-valley.jpg?itok=7WfQlkUU)  
> -Baby McCree inspired by [this cute art](http://aruvart.tumblr.com/post/156816640420/a-baby-mccree-from-last-nights-stream-hope-you) by [Aruvart](http://aruvart.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> Find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/jasonlyj99), [Tumblr](https://hoodie-two-shoes.tumblr.com/), and [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/jasonl_ens)!  
> 


	7. Aitaiyo (会いたいよ)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 7 : Holiday Season
> 
> In which Hanzo goes on a manhunt after learning Jesse's unconventional holiday plans.
> 
> A (very) headcanon-heavy extension based on the [Overwatch "Reflections" comic](https://comic.playoverwatch.com/en-us/tracer-reflections)!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's end this on something light and fluffy! 
> 
> This last chapter is all character and light fluff. No action, no smut, a sprinkle of plot. Hopefully this'll prepare me for more diverse scenarios in future fics! I view this entire project as a writing practice, after all. And looking back, it certainly works. 
> 
> This chapter is somewhat of a breakthrough as it is my first attempt in writing in present tense. Do pardon any slipped mistakes! 
> 
> I suppose my approach with this chapter is somewhat influenced by La La Land? In terms of setting and atmosphere, that is. And music. Trust me when I say shuffle a jazz playlist before going into this one. 
> 
> I pen this work as a love letter to New Orleans, and jazz music in general. I hope it does them justice in at least a tiny level!

His best Christmas ever started with a tiring flight.

Hanzo spent nearly twelve frustrating hours drifting in and out of sleep, words floating off the pages of his Murakami novel and jumbled in his bleary eyes when he tried to read, the halo of afternoon sun refracting through the scratched window piercing his eyelids when he tried to rest. His attempts to drink himself black gave him nothing more than a headache and a short fuzzy nap, which is as good as it gets. He should've known; you don't get drunk on champagne after years of carrying sake around.

He gained a firmer grasp on reality after touching down at the Louis Armstrong International Airport, hauling along his sleek black hand luggage as he tags along the flow of the crowd, the female broadcaster's droning muffled under the people's cluttered buzz. Businessmen with suitcases, single women under coats clucking on high heels, Omnic backpackers with gloves and winter caps. A dispirited, loose queue compared to the hustle in Tokyo. Hanzo himself feels stuffy inside his brown hoodie, the shirt beneath already plastered to his back and chest from the sweat, the case housing his bow and quiver heavy on his back. He looks up from the boring white tiled floor zooming past underneath his feet, scanning the people as they passed. Expressionless, tired. Wandering.

 _What are you all doing here on Christmas eve?_ He wonders. 

_What am I doing here?_

He kept the answer even from himself. 

Would he feel so miserable if he had said yes to Reinhardt's invitation? The German giant of a man has been one of his few friends in the team since day one, after all. And Brigitte has shown nothing less than warm affection towards the archer in the past few weeks. They knew his predicament, how he would be alone for the holiday once his work in Hanamura is done, and twice they had offered to fetch him at the Stockholm Arlanda Airport if he could fly in to Sweden the evening before. The prospect of a proper Christmas dinner with some friends has never seemed more welcoming. 

Hanzo had no more than ten sentences with Torbjörn, however. And that had scrapped the deal. 

The gentle chimes of a Christmas carol drift in the air, a melodic backdrop for the noises of shoe heels striking the ground and rolling luggage wheels. Hanzo takes a left turn into the lobby, where the brilliant silver light streamed through the dome of glass, flecks of snow stuck to the panels casting a web of fuzzy shadows on the slick marble floor. Keeping an eye on his path, Hanzo fishes his phone out of his front pocket and flicks off Airplane Mode, waiting for the device to buzz and updates from the Overwatch chatbox to flood his screen. 

The team is much more occupied than he realized: a beautiful black-and-white shot of Zenyatta meditating on a snow-capped Nepali mountain from Genji; a video from Brigitte showing Torbjorn in a santa suit and his wife cooking in a comely kitchen as Reinhardt walked around carrying dishes, laughing as a ridiculous swarm of children surrounded his ankles; a simple voice message from Angela promising to share some group photos with the nurses working at the refugee camp once she finishes her job; one hell of anessay from Athena expressing goodwill and blessings that Hanzo couldn't bother to read, and a short text that invites agents to Watchpoint Gibraltar for a dinner at 2000 GMT+1. A new speech bubble popping up shows Lena's reply, saying she will bring her girlfriend along after "a lil business that needs attendin 2" in King's Row. Three winky faces.

Hanzo refreshed the page, and waited. And another refresh as an afterthought. Nothing from Jesse. He sighs in a tone that is much more akin to disappointment than he realizes, and moves on. 

Really, he has nothing to attend to in Louisiana at this moment; anywhere, as a matter of fact. But since he's celebrating Christmas alone, he might as well make it a little vacation, he decided earlier as he left Hanamura in a rented motorcycle, scrolling through the endless list of destinations in his mind. He settled on somewhere in America, with Canada too cold for his taste and Europe too far. In a country as large as the United States, Hanzo finds himself oddly attracted to the homeland of the Mississippi that is New Orleans; The City that Care Forgot, with its dreamy Creole architecture in pastel paint and curiously narrow windows, the jazzy swung rhythms that fill its alleys and taverns, the wondrous explosions of color and music that is the Lundi Gras and Mardi Gras parades. He was utterly joyous when he scanned the flight schedule and found a trip to New Orleans taking off in ninety minutes, hopping on the plane without another question asked. A vacation without any preparation or entanglements. Or company.

It had seemed like a better idea back then.

The translucent automatic doors slide open as Hanzo approached with a friendly pre-recorded message: _"Welcome to New Orleans, Louisiana. Do enjoy your visit and have a lovely day."_ The snowy white fields and frost-covered pavements greet his eyes, a hovercar speeding past the light traffic with an ear-splitting shriek, the chill biting his exposed cheeks as he steps into the wintry air. 

He hails a taxi through the phone: an Audi coupe with an Omnic driver whose name Hanzo can't even begin to pronounce, five minutes from his location. The clock on his phone marks 2:19 p.m.. He rests his luggage on the corridor to ease the strain on his shoulders, plugs in his earphones and randomly shuffles a playlist. He listens to the lively shamisen strings dance to the soundtrack of Kubo and The Two Strings, gazing upwards to the falling snow, absorbed in his own thoughts when a soft horn snaps him out of his reverie. 

A pearl white hovercar, the driver waving his hands back and forth outside the door. The clock marks 2:21 p.m.. 

With an amused huff Hanzo carries his items over, greets his driver with a smile and a nod, letting the Omnic load them into the boot as he enters the vehicle, the heater pleasant on his face. 

"And where are you heading to, sir?"

"I was wondering about that myself. I was planning to visit Rue Bourbon and Jackson Square later this evening, but it seems to be too early for wine. Any suggestions?"

"Well, sir, then I would recommend Café du Monde for a hearty coffee break. The Au Lait and beignets are splendid, especially in this weather."

"That sounds nice. Take me there, then, Mister...?"

"Cristóbal González, sir, but Cris would be suffice. We'll be there in less than 20 minutes."

"Just now this says you'll fetch me up in five minutes. You can't blame me if I suspect your 20-minute guarantee is another loose standard, Cris."

"I assure you, sir, the estimated time is based on the distance and average speed of every taxi driver in this area," The Omnic laughs an infectious chuckle as the hovercar makes its way onto the road, adjoining itself to the unpopulated fast lane. "I simply try my best to exceed expectations."

 

*

 

Jesse's checklist is officially complete having visited the Matamoros Children's Home, handing clothes and cookies and candies to the kids as they swarmed around him and cheered. He left after a brief taste of the holiday spirit with the Christmas tree erected in the home and decorations by the children. A homely, warm place that reminds him a little of home, with its blazing firewood and children chasing around in new clothes and the smell of his mother's enchiladas spilling out of the busy kitchen. It exists where memories go now. What's left for Jesse to pursue becomes a stark-simple binary equation of yes' and no's.

No fireplace, no enchiladas. Not home.

Jesse walks on the lonely shore of Playa Bagdad, kicking up sand as he marches heedlessly along the coastline, his boots mere inches from the foaming waves of the receding tide. It barely snows on the east coast of Mexico, but the sudden gust of sea breeze was so unbearably cold Jesse shuddered under the stinging air, wrapping the serape tighter around his shoulders and arching his back involuntarily as he quickens his pace. He hears the cackling caw of a seagull and looks up, finding nothing but the dull gray sky that further dampens his mood. Like the sand beneath his feet, coarse and grainy and splashed with water.

He wonders how the rest of the team are doing.

He sits down on a wooden bench higher up on the rocks, waking his phone screen. Expectantly he scrolls through the messages and photos, smiling for a second at Reinhardt's new babysitting job in spite of himself. He reaches the end sooner than he expected. Frowning, he flicks through the messages again, and refreshes the chatbox. Nothing new. No word from Hanzo. Jesse sighs at the heavens, defeated and weary.

He hopes his partner is having more fun than he is. 

Nothing much to see beyond this area. Jesse decides to hitch a cab, head to somewhere with a larger crowd, get something to eat. His routine. He stands up stretching with a groan, patting the sand off his trousers. The device vibrated in his palm as he makes his way back to the row of cabins that isolates the beach from the town. He glances at the screen curiously, a surprised and hearty guffaw escaping his mouth.

 

>  
> 
> **Darlin'**  [03:19 p.m. | 24.12.2076]
> 
> Miss me cowman? Back from Hanamura. U with anyone 4 Christmas eve?
> 
> _Read 03:19 p.m._

 

Jesse's initial joy turns sour as he stares at the message. What should he tell him? Jesse chews on the words forming on his tongue, typing furiously and checking his message before hitting 'Send'. He checks his notifications in between peeks on the ground to see where he is going. 

 

>  
> 
> **Me** [03:20 p.m. | 24.12.2076]
> 
> wlc home darlin <3 clan business settled? im with some family here back
> 
> home in Dorado. gonna stay for couple days. whr u now? :3
> 
> _Read 03:20 p.m._
> 
>  
> 
> **Darlin'** [03:20 p.m. | 24.12.2076]
> 
> Yes. I thought ur supposed to stay at Gibraltar with Winst? Take a guess.
> 
> _Read 03:20 p.m._
> 
>  
> 
> **Me** [03:20 p.m. | 24.12.2076]
> 
> They invited me over last minute. Torb's house? ur not at Nepal are u? ;w; 
> 
> _Read 03:21 p.m._

 

Hanzo's next message comes attached with a sepia-filtered close-up of a tiny coffee cup and some weird-looking bread, the background a busy cobblestone street paved with snow. 

 

> **Darlin'** [03:21 p.m. | 24.12.2076]
> 
> Took a plane to New Orleans. Having a vacation till tmrw. Nice place but it seems
> 
> like im the only one alone. Can i see your family? A video chat would be nice if 
> 
> theyre available. We havent properly met. 
> 
> _Read 03:22 p.m._

 

 **Jesse** panics for a second, remembers himself, and starts typing. He turns into a dank alleyway concealed from the sun, his phone lighting up the patches of moss and graffiti on the brick walls as he passed. 

 

 

> **Me** [03:22 p.m. | 24.2.2076]
> 
> were all working in the kitchen tho, and the kids r playing out. maybe later?
> 
> _Read 03:23 p.m._

He steps into the light, the wind finally settling and the small town bustling with life, humans and vehicles scuttling in and out between houses of dizzying orange and brown hues, rolling along veins of the city installed with old streetlamps and bright bold signboards. He calls up the Carate app and summons a Toyota cab three miles away, returns to the chatbox just as the phone buzzes. Jesse flicks it open, anxious.

 

> **Darlin'** [03:24 p.m. | 24.12.2076]
> 
> Why didnt u tell me youre busy? I'll leave u to it then. Chat later. Have fun :)
> 
> _Read 03:24 p.m._
> 
>  
> 
> **Me** [03:24 p.m. | 24.12.2076]
> 
> sure thing, hun. see ya ;)
> 
> _Read 03:25 p.m._

 

His back against the dusty wall under the awning of a closed souvenir store, Jesse breathes a long sigh of relief that proves short-lived.He slides his phone into the front pocket, retrieves his cigar from its acrylic case along with the lighter in his chest pocket, and takes a minute to surround himself in a hazy cloud of smoke. Even without puffing he could feel the gloom closing in, swallowing up the ray of sunshine that descended upon him minutes ago. _Great job Jesse,_ he draws in a mouthful of tobacco, lets it sit, coughs a bitter chuckle _. Now you really ain't got nobody to talk to._

What else is new?

A yellow '68 Camry drifts into view around the corner, to which Jesse waves at. It rolls to a halt, sputters two innocent honks. The driver seat window glides down as Jesse approaches, revealing a 40-something man whose aesthetic screams nice: short dark hair combed to the side, round spectacles, neatly clipped mustache, red flower shirt. He lumbers into the backseat, smelling air freshener and hair wax. 

 _"Adonde, amigo?"_ Two eager brown eyes look at him through the rear-view mirror.

Jesse rests his hat on the seat beside him, sinking his back into the leather couch. Shutting his eyes for a nap, he lets the Mariachi Guitarrón from the radio flood his ears as the vehicle starts forward."Dorado City Square, amigo."

 

*

 

Hanzo never knew there is still someone anywhere in the world who could still play John Coltrane so well. 

He has a table all to himself, a tall glass of bubbling European beer in hand, watching the quartet of balding and white-haired elderly men in suit-and-tie sway to the quiet rhythm of 'Lonnie's Lament', the Christmas lights hanging on the sticker-littered walls blinking to the lazy crawl of piano and saxophone. He remembers the song all too well; the second last track in Coltrane's 'Crescent', one of Hanzo's most treasured jazz albums in his late twenties. He wonders if he could still find the record in his stash back home. 

With winter comes shorter days. The sun was beginning to dip before six, the warm splash of orange sprawling upwards into a peculiar tone of turquoise blue, but Hanzo barely notices the time passing inside the hole in the wall. Fritzel's Bar is a true find; "the very soul of New Orleans jazz", the Internet says. Hanzo wholeheartedly agrees. He certainly didn't expect stepping into 733 Bourbon St. to find a cozy hideout from the cold with probably the best live jazz performance he ever had the chance to witness. He takes another sip, swirling the half-empty glass. 

The red-bearded bartender quietly taps another Lager. Hanzo looks around, fascinated by the messy but strangely comforting decor: several absurdly large Christmas ornaments hanging from the ceiling fans; framed posters of beers and musicians all over the unpainted brick walls; a wreath and a mistletoe nailed above the counter; a propaganda board above the stage with Uncle Sam and the words "I WANT YOU FOR BUNDESWEHR". He chortles at a neon sign saying: _"New Orleans: we put the 'fun' in funeral"_. 

The plucking of strings lead into sizzling hi-hat and funky piano keys; immediately Hanzo could feel the wooden planks beneath him vibrating under tapping feet from around the bar. The song is a good ten minutes; he settles comfortably into his seat, having half a mind to try the house wine. Onstage the trumpet and saxophone joins in and immediately the floor shakes, the vibrating tenor spreading everywhere and up his...

...right thigh?

Hanzo sets down the glass so hard he earns chiding looks from some bar patrons, fumbling for his cell phone with fingers clumsier than they usually are. It slipped from the denim, fell to the floor face down with a thump, sliding across the wooden surface as it buzzes.

His heart drops when he sees the blue capital A emblem, and suddenly the music sounds more mocking than cheerful. He heads to the back of the pub before answering the call, trying not to sound irritated. "Yes, Athena?"

"Good evening, Agent Hanzo. I hope I'm not causing a interruption in your holiday celebration?"

"No. I'm, uh, alone right now." 

"I see. Winston just wants me to dial every Overwatch agents to make sure everyone is safe around the globe. He grows rather paranoid after the museum attack on the gauntlet. Surely you understand."

"Of course," Hanzo gently parts the curtains before peeking out, the intrusive fluorescent light immediately leaking into the dimly-lit bar. The music shimmies on, the audience rippling drunkenly along. "Everything is fine on my way here. Nothing major in Japan or I would've heard on the news. I'm in New Orleans right now."

"I am aware," came Athena's cool reply. "Thank you, Agent Hanzo. Winston and I wish you a very delightful Christmas and, in case you'll be staying, a happy new year. I'll be calling Agent McCree next, so if there's anything--"

"Wait, Athena," he jumps, startled by a cymbal crash. "Jesse just messaged me earlier, says he's with his family in Dorado, busy prepping for tonight I think. Said nothing about anything suspicious. Best not disturb him right now."

Hanzo hears the microscopic shift in the AI's pause, a delicate tilt from politeness to confusion. "Pardon me, Agent Hanzo, but that doesn't make much sense."

"Why?"

"Well, Agent McCree didn't inform us of his destination, but I know for certain that his hometown was in Santa Fe, New Mexico. My database shows no relations of Agent McCree in Dorado."

For a moment Hanzo held on to his phone, saying nothing, his mind failing to make any connections. "Why would he lie, then?"

"Agent McCree has a tradition of not celebrating the holiday season with the rest of the agents. Perhaps he didn't want you to worry?"

"That _fool_ ," he curses under his breath, checking his watch. 6:48 p.m.. "Dorado is in the same timezone with New Orleans, correct?"

"Correct."

"Can you track his cell phone? Real time feed of his location?"

"I am prohibited from sharing sensitive information of agents that may concern their safety, especially when they are on leave--"

"Athena, please--"

"--but I suppose I couldn't stop you from looking out for your assigned partner if you suspect he's unsafe," Athena said in a tone reminiscent of an electronic tongue-in-cheek. "and Winston wouldn't mind, I believe. I'll be linking up your map to his coordinates."

"Thanks Athena," Hanzo digs for five coins in his pocket and leaves them on his table before moving to retrieve his luggage at the counter, tipping a nod to the bartender. "say hi to Winston for me."

"Of course. Good luck on your trip, Agent Hanzo."

The connection broke as Hanzo exits the tiny doorway to the streets, snow fluttering down and whisking around the shops, blanketing the neon signs, chasing the swirling wind. With the sky not yet completely dark, more people stream into clubs and bars than out, music booming from every door in sight. Bulbous strings of Christmas lights sparkle in their hazy glow, blinking dizzily. Hanzo imagines all the lights he could be seeing over at Jackson's Square, the fireworks and shows and songs. His mind flashes to an image of Jesse, drinking himself dead in a bar somewhere, all alone. He sees the dazzling sea of iridescence, then the cowboy, and they blink out of existence. Resolution takes root.

Hanzo hails another cab just another block away, a BMW that probably charges the hell out of visitors. It'll have to do. 

An expressionless white man in a fancy suit greets him through the open window. "Where are you heading to, mister?"

"Dorado, Mexico. You can reach there?"

The man stares ahead of the steering wheel, contemplating on the job. He finally licks his lips. "Alright then, but depending on the traffic, I can't take this job if you don't have at least 40 credits with you, sir."

"How long?"

"I'd say four and a half hours? Four if the traffic's good."

"Get me there in three and I'll pay a hundred."

Hanzo proceeds to load his baggage, ignoring the stunned driver. The boot was slowly closing shut when Hanzo notices a pink sign in squiggly kanji: 北海道ベーカリー _·_ _Hokkaido Bakery_. 

A long unpracticed idea comes to him immediately, flickering to life. "One minute," he tells the driver. 

He swiftly cuts through the swarming crowd, the orange lanterns from the tiny shop a welcoming sight among the intoxicating electric luminescence. A glimpse back home. 

He scans greedily through the rows of fruity and powder-topped cakes in the display fridge with both palms pressed against the glass like a child. Finally he eyes his prize in a corner beside a chocolate fudge with Oreo crumbs, topped with as much whipped cream and juicy strawberries as he hopes for. He gestures for the cashier girl tending to the trays of bread inside, absolutely thrilled at the discovery. 

Jesse loves cake.

 

*

 

Jesse keeps track of his drinks. How many cans of Heineken downed on his way from the town hall to the museum and back after a trip to a local convenient store, him settling on a stone bench at sunset as he watched the rippling waves shimmer under the evening light, the tide rolling with a hushed growl and sea foams washing ashore. He tried to think of nothing, save for the iced beer bubbling up his head. He still wonders about Hanzo, the wheres and whos and hows on his getaway.

Should he call? He dropped the question like burning coal.

He breathed in puffs of cigar smoke between sips of beer. Crushed cans were left abandoned on the beach, the empty plastic bag rising and falling beneath his feet, fighting the wind. He remembers having six cans, not because he actually remembers, but because he bought half a dozen and none are left.

He keeps track of his drinks at the bar, too. A harmless number that is very concrete and real, until he wakes groggy on the counter after god-knows how long, his mind a thumping blur. He sits back up with a groan, eyeing the empty glass and the last few mouthfuls of amber liquid in the bottle. He remembers having something else before the Martell. Something red? How much did he had?

God, his head hurts. 

Jesse follows the gentle clinking on his left to find Lloyd wiping and stacking clean glasses on the shelf, overlong sleeves of his white T-shirt flapping under the ceiling fan as he works, brows furrowed. Only then does he notice the lady with a shocking purple sidecut sitting at the far end of the counter, fingers flicking through a hi-tech-y hologram screen looking bored, a half-empty glass of beer near her resting elbow. She looks over at Jesse, snickers, and goes back to her screen. 

He is alone in the bar save for the bartender and the peculiarly-dressed woman, and several tables with empty bottles and buckets of ice. Children's laughter streams through the doorway, drifting in the stale air like honeyed notes. The television overhead is barely audible, showing the regular reporter lady with pictures under bold captions. Christmas celebrations everywhere in the world: a twin tower in Malaysia that looks like two corn stalks illuminated by red and green lights, plastic trees covered in Christmas ornaments and shining bulbs adorning the Singapore Sky Garden; a student choir outside a busy mall in Taipei, Omnics passing down gifts to delighted children outside the Numbani Heritage Museum.

He waits for the footage to show the United States. Perhaps he could even catch Hanzo walking on the street, a small part of him dares to hope. 

"Still waiting, cowboy?"

The sidecut lady is already up from her stool, tossing coins onto the counter. Jesse notices the weird tattoos and robotic strips of light on the side on her scalp as she approaches.

"For who? Should I know ya?"

"Oh, you know who. He's almost here," She leaves his second question unanswered, much like her unfinished drink. Without a glance back as she heads for the exit, she chirps, sing-song-y: "Stay put, cowboy."

She parts the curtains on her way out, letting in a gust of unadulterated winter chill. _What the hell_ , Jesse thinks dismissively, too hungover to bother with her remarks. He turns his attention back to the TV, now showing the trailer for HAL-Fred Hitchbot's new romance film. He yells over to Lloyd: "Hey Lloyd, what time is it?"

"Almost ten. You've been here for three hours, kid. Not seeing anyone for Christmas?"

"Naw," Jesse rubs his eyes with a sleepy grunt, trying to shake the alcohol out of his system. "not for years. Y'know that."

"Huh, was hoping you ain't. Would've get lonely if my regular's gone too." Lloyd takes the cigarette butt and shoves it into the ashtray. "Business' tough these days. Your Deadlock fellas all locked up, the Los Muertos folk too chicken shit with that vigilante hangin' round. Serving regular folk and tourists gets boring, ya know?"

"What? Missed getting your furniture smashed?"

"Hah! Sure did," the old man snorts. "you fellas put up a nice fight sometimes. Besides, you people still end up paying fer the furniture. Not much of a loss, I'd say." 

The man returns to his errands. Jesse slumps back onto the counter, cold from the polished wood trickling through his metal arm and gnawing on his stump. His mind wanders off into the streets, beyond the shore, reaching across the open seas. Fourteen years ago tonight, five thousand miles away across the Atlantic, he would be celebrating his first Christmas at Sweden, on a table stacked with food he'd never seen in his life alongside the First Strike Team and a couple more, laughing as they passed along bread and butter and wine. Athena taking music requests from everyone, a collective groan when Hasselhoff came up. Reyes and Morrison getting too drunk for their own good, dancing in the common room as Fareeha recorded everything with suppressed giggles. The moment he opened Reyes' gift to find the shiny revolver laying inside the velvet.

The cold reaches him further down. He shivers in a tight ball, the serape failing to keep the frost at bay. Jesse grasps onto fraying strands of the blissful memory. He slips. Gone are the candlelight and warmth, the laughter of his ghosts. 

He hears the faint whistling of the wind of the world outside, face still buried in his arms. "Can I get ya something, lad?"

"I don't suppose you serve rice wine here, do you?"

Jesse jolts awake. Like something from a dream, Hanzo stands at his side, sporting his favorite brown hoodie and a man-bun, a hand luggage on his left hand and a ribbon-laced box on his right. Seeing his partner's face struck him like a bolt of lightning on a clear summer night, his smile thawing the chill in the air. Snowflakes pepper his hair like powdered sugar. 

Jesse stands up so fast his stool tumbles over. He gave Hanzo a hug so tight the force sent them both backwards, earning an 'oomph' on Hanzo's part. 

"God, darlin', whatcha doing here?"

"Good to see you too, Jesse. If you don't mind, you're crushing me. And the cake."

Reluctantly Jesse loosens his grip. With a relieved chuckle Hanzo sets down everything on the counter. Huffing an exerted breath, he finally turns to Jesse with a chiding look. 

"Why didn't you tell me you're on your own, Jesse McCree?" 

Jesse could feel heat crawling up his neck and cheeks. "Look, darlin', I'm sorry I--"

"What are you sorry for?" The edge of his falcon-like eyes soften, and he gave Jesse a light shove on the shoulders, motioning him to sit. He proceeds to drag another stool to the opposite side of the counter. "I should have known. Should have called you myself to make sure everything's alright."

"Aw hell no, darlin', I...I didn't wanna crash yer holiday, y'know. Sounds like yer havin' fun." 

"Well yes, I did miss out on the Barely Legal Club everyone has been talking about, but I figured my cowboy could do a better job himself, so no loss there." Hanzo says with a smirk that leaves Jesse utterly in the dark. "You of all people should know that I'd rather spend Christmas eve with my partner in a shithole like this than going anywhere alone, Jesse." The cowboy gestures to the bartender for two margaritas, trying not to let the flutter on his face show. "But in all seriousness, you spend every Christmas here?"

Jesse bitterly chuckled into his drink. "After mama passed,  yeah. No point going home." He takes a sip, another, and proceeds to empty the glass in one gulp. "The Deadlock gang used to visit when we stop by the area. Pretty hot spot for lawless folk back then, the Calaveras. Been ol' pals with the bartender Lloyd over there." Jesse waits for Lloyd to serve their cloudy white drinks in tall glasses rimmed with salt and hobble away. "I stay with the team after that, before everything went to shit in Sweden. Funny how Torb used to not join us, said he wanted to keep his lady company, and now his place is probably the merriest of all."

"I know. Have you seen his litter of kids? Could've drown--" Eyesbrows suddenly screwed together in a cringe, Hanzo forces a swallow and went into a fit of hacking cough. "What the _hell_ is this?"

"Tequila, with Cointreau and lime." Jesse laughs. "Gotta treat ya with the local special. Spicy, this one. Goes down pretty good with syrup if it's too bitter for ya."

"I'm fine." Hanzo inspects the alcohol, doubtful. "Reinhardt did invited me to his place, before I took off to Hanamura."

"Why didn'tcha go?"

"Same reason you did not stay with Winston, I presume?"

"Yeah, sounds 'bout right." Jesse takes the smallest of sips, his eyes drifting to the unopened cardboard box. "You brought cake, darlin'?"

Hanzo sets down his drink, and fumbles with the pink ribbon. "Found this in New Orleans. I had no idea they sell these so far away from Japan, to be honest. I hope you like--"

"Strawberries?"

Hanzo's smiling jaw drops, incredulous. "How did you know?"

"Genji told me a while back how you Japanese celebrate Christmas. Couples hang out and have Strawberry Shortcake, ain't it right?"

Jesse sees a tint of pink shine through his pale cheeks as Hanzo asks for plates and forks, ignoring him completely. The cowboy decides to not spare his partner of a little further embarrassment. "Lloyd, y'mind putting some music on? My date here loves jazz."

Seeing Hanzo blush under the pool of orange light makes the smack on his arm worth it.

Lloyd paces over to the phonograph with a laugh after setting down the plates, mumbling to himself as he flips through the decades worth of vinyl records. Jesse slices through the spongy confectionery, producing two large pieces with two strawberries atop each. He slides a plate over to Hanzo, who immediately picks up his fork.

"So, you got any plans fer later?" Jesse asks over a mouthful of cake, savoring the cream melting on his tongue. 

"Nothing on my mind for now," Hanzo toys with his food, cutting a piece too inhumanly small to be edible. "I'm more than happy to stay here till we figure something out, if you're comfortable with this."

"Aww darlin', I can't possibly ask you to stay here in a bar after flying halfway 'round the planet--"

Hanzo looks up wistfully from his cake, heaving a faint sigh of content that conjures a puffy cloud in the chill. The air between them grows ever so slightly warmer. " _Aitaiyo_ , Jesse McCree. The rest are secondary."

Jesse chuckles nervously, abashed under his ardent gaze. "The hell does that s'posed to mean?"

His eyebrows were raised, the coolness returning to his voice as he lifts his glass to his lips, laced with a tinge of Shimada-brand acid. "I thought Genji teaches you Japanese. Didn't do a very good job, I see."

Jesse snorts. "C'mon darlin', you jealous of your brother? God, you two really need to drop that rivalry thing."

" _I am not,_ " he retaliates with a snarl more affectionate than intimidating. In the background, light piano keys bounced from the phonograph's brass horn, scratched and fuzzy. It took a moment for them both to register the song after the trumpet blares. Jesse rears back in laughter. Hanzo nearly spews his drink back into his glass. 

"Nicely done, Lloyd!"

"I know an occasion that needs a love song when I see one. Don't thank me, kid."

"You sure you didn't hire this man, Jesse?" Occasional sips of the cocktail break his grin. Hanzo still has half his cake left, whereas his own plate has nothing but crumbs and leafy strawberry stalks. He cuts himself another. 

"Do I look like I need a wingman?"

"Pfft. Shut up and eat your cake."

Jesse complies, gobbling up half a slice and washing it down with the last of his drink. A longing, smoky voice drifts into the bar, and Jesse finds himself among the streets of summer Paris, tasting the wind and sun and Hanzo's scent on his lips as the River Seine rushes by beneath the stone bridges.

 

_"Hold me close and hold me fast/The magic spell you cast/This is la vie en rose......"_

 

"Paris," Jesse mutters under his breath.

"Hm?"

"We should go there some time," Jesse says quietly, longingly, as Hanzo watches him, confused. "Paris. Never been to France before. Maybe next Christmas. Whadaya say?"

"Why?" Hanzo delivers half of a strawberry into his mouth.

"Why, it sounds nice, y'know, vacation and--"

"I mean, why next Christmas?" He looks up, a glint in his eyes.

 

_"When you kiss me heaven sighs/And tho I close my eyes/I see la vie en rose......"_

 

Jesse's mind spins sluggishly in its booze-ridden afterglow, the question dawning on him like a spotlight, unbelievable but dazzling. "Darlin', you're not thinking--"

"We're on leave till after New Year. How do you propose to spend the next week? Here?"

"Why hell no," Jesse exclaims, looking over to make sure Lloyd is out of earshot. "but ain't this a little sudden?"

"Jesse," Hanzo shifts in his seat, turning the full weight of his attentive gaze into Jesse's eyes. "In twenty four hours I traveled three countries, two continents because I _felt_ like it. We have nothing on our backs right now. What are you worried about?"

Jesse considers the idea. The bar melts into the gloomy dusk; he could almost feel the December sun brushing his cheeks, him and his partner huddling away in a café, navigating the Marias with Hanzo as his guide, walking down the holy cathedrals and plazas. Maybe a game of boule or two. Spending the evening in a garden somewhere, doing nothing. Together.

What are you worried about?

 

_"And when you press me to your heart/I'm in a world apart/A world where roses bloom......"_

 

"Heck, darlin'," Jesse laughs giddily. "Sounds like a mighty fine idea. I need to change outta these clothes tho."

That scores a chuckle from his partner. Hanzo forks a destemmed strawberry to his mouth, to which Jesse accepts wordlessly. "You are ridiculous, cowman." 

Louis Armstrong croons on. An awkward silence falls; should he say something?

"Thank you, Han," he whispers, just loud enough for him to hear. The temperature rises steadily around them. "fer all this. Hell, best Christmas eve in a while, I'd say."

Hanzo's hand, smooth and warm, reaches for his own. "Don't be silly--"

"I mean it, darlin'." Jesse's flesh fingers squeeze back. He musters the courage with one long, deep breath. " _Daiji ni shitai._ " 

 

_"And when you speak angels sing from above/Everyday words seem to turn into love songs......"_

 

Hanzo's beaming eyes go wide. Wider. His lips are ajar, just a little, but no words come. All he does is stare.

Jesse's brain gave him a blaring mental red light. He manages a nervous chuckle, unease worming its way up his gut. "God, I fucked it up again, didn't I? It's not a stupid insult or something like that, is it? I swear, if that little shit--"

Hanzo's lips cut off his breath as his face rushes forward to greet Jesse's. 

It happens in a flash; the promise to strangle his partner's little brother still hangs halfway down his throat. The thought dissipates like the bubbles he saw earlier washing up the beach, leaving behind nothing but a tingling spike of static where their lips meet, where Hanzo cusps his bearded cheeks in his palms. Hanzo's eyes are shut; Jesse finds himself staring. He allowed himself the same privilege, rigid muscles winding down. He could almost _feel_ Hanzo's gentle profile as wavering silhouettes fall on his eyelids, the music so very far away.

His mind calls forth their first kiss on the train to Gibraltar, Jesse bleeding out from his stomach. He still recalls how they were tangled in each other's arms, the air stuffy and the evening warm and his belly hurt like hell but the kiss was too good to let slip. Hanzo initiated that one too, he remembers, and almost breaks into laughter. He thought they could never top that one, the one time that appears so often in his best of dreams. He was immediately reminded of the present, the overwhelming scent and warmth and touch of his love flooding his senses. This is real. Just like the first time, just like every time.

It feels like yesterday. It feels like a lifetime ago.

 

_"Give your heart and soul to me/And life will always be......"_

 

Look at where they are now, Jesse thinks, blissfully drowned in the moment.

Where will they be tomorrow? He wonders. 

 

_"......la vie en rose"_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _**Daiji ni Shitai. (大事にしたい。)** – I treasure you._
> 
>  
> 
> The research made for this chapter was _intense_.
> 
> References:
> 
> -All locations in New Orleans exists in real life, albeit with some minor liberties when taken into account this is 60 years into the future: [The Louis Armstrong International Airport](https://www.google.com/search?q=louis+armstrong+airport&safe=strict&espv=2&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwj9guTtkcbSAhWLF5QKHfGhALYQ_AUICigD&biw=1536&bih=759), [the Café du Monde](https://www.google.com/search?sourceid=chrome-psyapi2&ion=1&espv=2&ie=UTF-8&q=cafe%20du%20monde%20new%20orleans&oq=cafe%20du&aqs=chrome.1.69i57j69i59l2j0l3.2582j0j7), [Fritzel's European Jazz Club](https://www.tripadvisor.com.my/Attraction_Review-g60864-d638047-Reviews-Fritzel_s_European_Jazz_Bar-New_Orleans_Louisiana.html) on [Bourbon Street](https://www.google.com/search?q=bourbon+street&safe=strict&espv=2&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwiNlJLNjsbSAhVDj5QKHXpUCG8Q_AUICigD&biw=1536&bih=759), and [Jackson Square](https://www.google.com/search?safe=strict&espv=2&biw=1536&bih=759&tbm=isch&sa=1&q=jackson+square+new+orleans&oq=jackso&gs_l=img.3.1.0i67k1l2j0j0i67k1j0l6.24230.25026.0.26594.6.6.0.0.0.0.147.603.0j5.5.0....0...1c.1.64.img..1.5.601.2_drjDiWan8). Hokkaido Bakery is fictional.  
> -The official website states Dorado to be located on the East Coast of Mexico, hence I decided to place it somewhere near Matamoros, a town by the sea, where [the Playa Bagdad beach](https://www.google.com/search?q=playa+bagdad&safe=strict&espv=2&biw=1536&bih=759&source=lnms&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwja6429j8bSAhUHppQKHW7KCVYQ_AUIBygA&dpr=1.25) is found. [The Matamoros Children's Home](https://www.google.com/search?sourceid=chrome-psyapi2&ion=1&espv=2&ie=UTF-8&q=matamoros%20mexico%20children%27s%20home&oq=matamoros%20chil&aqs=chrome.1.69i57j0l4.5263j0j9) is a real place as well. (They receive donations!)  
> -Trivia: the design of Dorado is based on [this lovely Italian town](https://www.google.com/search?q=manarola+italy&safe=strict&espv=2&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwiPpICZjq7SAhVMHZQKHUQmBUcQ_AUICSgC&biw=1536&bih=759#imgrc=CUJwd5kVRgOnIM:)!  
> -The layout of Dorado and the Calaveras Bar are canon! Based on [this cute little map drawn by Junkrat](http://overwatch.wikia.com/wiki/Dorado?file=Junkrat_roadhog_teaser_2.png) in the Junkers' hero teaser.  
> -[The John Coltrane song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YLxaitDDXRw) playing in Hanzo's bar.  
> -[A Japanese Style Strawberry Shortcake](https://www.google.com/search?q=strawberry+cake+japanese&safe=strict&espv=2&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwjStO7Ok8bSAhUBp5QKHRlFAWoQ_AUICCgB&biw=1536&bih=759) which is, as Jesse says, commonly shared between couples on Christmas. Christmas isn't a public holiday in Japan, and as far as I know the cake is their way of celebrating.  
> -Yes, Lloyd is a The Shining Reference >:3  
> -[How to make a proper glass of margarita](http://www.cookingchanneltv.com/recipes/margarita0).  
> -Finally, [the original version of 'La Vie En Rose' by Louis Armstrong](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8IJzYAda1wA) and [Daniela Andrade's amazing cover](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3Ba_WoSZXvw) that inspired me to include this song.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Love Laughs At Locksmiths** [prov.]  
>  :- love will find a way; love knows no bounds.
>
>>   
> _Were beauty under twenty locks kept fast,_  
>  Yet love breaks through, and picks them all at last.
>> 
>> \--Venus and Adonis, William Shakespeare  
> 
> 
>   
> _Mamoritai (守りたい)_ \-- I want to protect you.  
>  _Gochisō (ごちそう)_ \-- Feast  
>  _Kuiaratame (悔い改め)_ \-- Reveries, regrets.  
>  _Sunaarashi to Hyō (砂嵐と雹)_ \-- Sandstorm and Hail  
>  _Watashi No Nikkō (私の日光)_ \-- My Sunshine  
>  _Aitaiyo (会いたいよ)_ \-- I want to see you.
> 
>  
> 
> After three long months, it ends. 
> 
> I had no idea the beast it would become when brainstorming ideas in mid-December. It seemed fun, and I need a platform to cement my writing style before moving on to planned stories. Apparently the themes the admins came up with were irresistible, and my imagination ran wild. I had a total blast, the freedom of creating an anthology series a liberating experience. 
> 
> I would like to use this space to thank my new friend Kasitachi, who has shown much support ever since the first chapter and is my motivation to complete the series as soon as possible. Also hugs and kisses to all the FuckYeahReinzo Discord server for several technical assistance and imagination fuel! Among them is the lovely [Catatoplant](https://catatoplant.tumblr.com/) for [her amazing fanart for the Westworld AU chapter Kuiaratame](https://catatosoup.tumblr.com/post/157771577664/catatoplant-dododles-i-did-in-the-semi-dark)! 
> 
> With college around the corner, I might not be able to pen new fics as frequent as these. But giving up on writing isn't an option, so stay tuned if you like what you saw! Thanks to all you readers for the love along the way! Cheers and out! 
> 
>  
> 
> Find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/jasonlyj99), [Tumblr](https://hoodie-two-shoes.tumblr.com/), and [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/jasonl_ens)!  
> 


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